


Higgins' Song

by MaryDragon



Series: Noble Thief [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Death, Explicit Language, Gen, Graphic Description, Graphic Violence, Graphic depiction of death, NO SERIOUSLY SPOILERS, Original Character Death(s), PTSD, Salvation, Side Story, Spoilers, Spoilers for everything, War, alternate POV, common man, f-bombs galore, now with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 62
Words: 152,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryDragon/pseuds/MaryDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Inquisition is made up of people," Cullen had told her. He hadn't needed to; Evelyn definitely knew.<br/>A view of the events of Inquisition through the soldiers and servants who gave their blood, sweat, and tears to the War of the Breach.<br/>Main character is Higgins, a Fereldan man-at-arms who is brought to Haven by Fate but stays out of Faith.<br/>Features predominantly Original Characters (some inspired by other works) and their interactions with the Inquisition Inner Circle.</p><p>NOW WITH ART:<br/>My amazing cover by the incredible <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisen">Eisen</a><br/>Nuggins' Tarot Card, the 5 of Pentacles, by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/dissatisfied_doodles">dissatisfied_doodles</a><br/>Higgins Reading on Ch 51 by <a href="http://chanterie.tumblr.com/">Chanterie</a><br/>Killer, Bluebird, and Nuggins on the Epitaph by <a href="http://grimmcake.tumblr.com/">Grimmcake</a><br/>And Evelyn's portrait, found in Of Fear & Lyrium by <a href="http://grimmcake.tumblr.com/">Grimmcake</a><br/>AND HIGGINS' SONG as performed by <a href="http://stabspoon.tumblr.com/">Stabspoon</a> on Chapter 30!!<br/>All the Love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Haven

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to keep this in tune with the rest of the series, but there will be some dark places.  
> Let's be honest. There is a hell of a body count in the Dragon Age.

 

“Higgins! Glennon!” the Bann’s voice cracked like a whip over the restless sounds of horses and the howl of the mountain wind.

“Ser?” Glennon replied a second before Higgins could.

“You are to stay in Haven during the Conclave. I will send Mallory to you with any correspondence that needs to be sent out. If any word arrives, particularly from Arl Guerrin, I expect you to run it up to me without delay.”

“Yes, ser.” Higgins answered with a nod.

The Bann might as well have not heard him. He threw a leg over his horse and rode up the mountain, expecting the others to follow. With a sigh and an eyeroll, Mallory did, flipping her hair over her shoulder and falling into step with the rest of the delegation.

 

Glennon and Higgins exchanged a long look. “Well. Now what?” Glennon ventured first.

Higgins shrugged. “Find someone to tell us what to do, I suppose.”

They were mere men-at-arms for the Bann, he being only the most recent in a line of men willing to pay for their services. They were still relatively new to the work – Glennon had been employed for a year or more before recruiting Higgins to join him, some four years past – but the Bann was easily their worst employer yet.

“I’m picking our next job,” Higgins said as the two men wandered through Haven. “This guy is a prick.”

“Better a Fereldan prick than that ‘Marcher Lord you tried to stick us with,” Glennon retorted.

“That ‘Marcher prick would have given us twice the money for half the work – and not left us in the ass-end of nowhere.”

Glennon grunted. “You can’t know that.”

“I can so. I read the contract before you stormed out. He wanted foreigners to tail his brat, new blood she wouldn’t recognize right off. How bad could it have been, to follow around some noble chit through Ostwick?”

Another grunt, but Glennon had no answer for him.

“I hear the Commander here is Fereldan,” Higgins said into the silence, leading his comrade through the bustle of the village towards the Chantry at the top of the hill. “Maybe he’ll know what we should be doing.”

 

“Two more men-at-arms left behind?” Commander Rutherford said, one eyebrow quirked. “Who do you report to?”

“The Fereldan delegation, sent by Arl Guerrin, Commander.” Higgins replied immediately. “Led by Bann-“

“Yes, of course. Report to Lieutenant Brown, he’ll set you up with a tent. Leave your names with Lieutenant Killeen, she’ll make sure any correspondence to that delegation is routed to you. Meals are at the first three bells, starting the half hour before and running until the half hour after. If you have time and interest, we are offering silver for anyone willing to commit to a week’s guard rotation. Talk to Lieutenant Brown if you would like.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser,” they said as they were swept out of his tent. There was a line forming behind them – more men-at-arms and recruits for the army that was rumoring to be built at Haven. The beginnings of it were plainly visible, even to untrained eyes like Higgins’.

“That’s a man I could work for,” Glennon said as they sought out the Lieutenants as directed.

“No lie,” Higgins agreed. “Looked me right in the eye like I _was_ somebody.”

“Names.” Killeen barked when they found her. She was blond and blue-eyed, but stout with years of hard labor and living by the sword. She was the kind of woman who loomed over you, even when the top of her head barely reached your jaw. She had a writing board in front of her face and had already filled two full sheets with a concise hand.

“Karl Glennon, ser.”  
“And, er, Higgins, ser. Uhm. Morty Higgins.”

She glanced up at them, cracking a smile. They were a matched pair, of like height and build, brunette and blue-eyed, with faces similar enough they could have been brothers, and they’d finished more than one fight that had started with that insinuation.

“Morty short for something heinous, Higgins?”

“Yes, ser.”

She laughed, a husky breath of a sound. “Fair enough. Higgins it is.”

“We’re responsible for correspondence from the Fereldan delegation, from Arl Guerrin, ser.”

“Ah, yes. Bann Jackass. Duly noted. Report to Brown, next. He’ll set you up with a tent and a gridcode. Come back when you’ve got that, I’ll add it to your roster entry.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.”

“And, Higgins? We all go by last names around here. There’s a reason you’re reporting to Brown and Killeen.”

Higgins found himself smiling back at her. Glennon’s hand on his shoulder spun him around and they were off again, this time not managing to arrive before the line formed.

“Higgins and Glennon, ser. Looking to requisition a tent and a… gridcode?”

“Gridcode,” Lieutenant Brown confirmed, indicating the precisely drawn map on the table he sat behind. He was willowy and Antivan, his skin, hair, and eyes various shades of his name. He bore the same set to his shoulders as Killeen had, and Higgins couldn’t help but think, again, that the Commander was a man he could work for, with the level of pride and competency visible in his Lieutenants.

“We’ve laid a grid over the valley. Each gridcode is marked with a labeled flag. I’ll assign you a code, you’ll get your pack from Quartermaster Threnn, and then you keep within your grid. We expect you to behave like one of the Commander’s men while you’re here, so mind your campsite. Either of you interested in guard rotation?”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins replied eagerly, only moments before Glennon could say the same. Brown graced them with a wide smile.

“I’ll put you in the first of block C, then. You’ll still technically be employed by whoever dragged you here, but the C block is for volunteers while the Conclave is running.”

The Lieutenant gave them a more solid once-over, and then looked hard at the map. “It would give the Commander the twitches if he knew, but I’m going to bump the order a bit. Take C-12. And welcome to Haven.”

 

Glennon met with the Quartermaster while Higgins returned to Lieutenant Killeen. The line was impressive, but moving at a steady clip. Killeen’s voice barked out “Names!” at least once a minute. He couldn’t help but grin when he reached the front of the line and the single syllable was directed at him once again.

“Higgins, again, ser. Come to report my gridcode, ser.”

Her hand blurred as she flipped quickly back through the pages. “How long ago were you here, Higgins?”

“Third page, ser. Fifth from the top.”

She paused and fixed him a hard stare while she turned to the spot. “Higgins and Glennon, Bann Jackass delegation. Well remembered. What square did Brown assign you?”

“C-12, ser.”

Her lips tilted up in that sly smile again, and Higgins found his grin widen in answer. “Did you hit on Brown or something?”

“I can’t speak for Glennon, but no ser. He’s not my type, ser.”

She laughed, then, another husky chuckle like before. “He and I decided that was the best spot in the grounds when we were laying out gridlines. C-block means you’re volunteering for guard duties?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Fantastic. We’ll weasel you away from Bann Jackass yet.”

“As soon as our contract is filled, ser, I would be happy to discuss that with you.”

She tapped her quill on the side of the ink pot. “Loyalty, too? Be still my heart. You Fereldan?”

Higgins nodded gladly. “Family is freeholders, sworn to Teryn Cousland. Same with Glennon.”

“Highever? Did Glennon head for the Quartermaster already?”

“Yes, ser,” he answered, becoming confused at her line of questioning.

“Threnn’s a Mac Tir supporter. Came down on the wrong side of the civil war during the Blight. You might need to go check on your friend.”

“Maker’s balls. Thank you, ser.”

Her throaty chuckle followed him as he fled, and he smiled again a few moments later, when she barked “Names!” at whoever had been behind him in line.

He got to Glennon moments before he made it to the front of the line. “Glennon,” he hissed, “let me do the talking.”

“Fine,” Glennon answered. They’d known each other long enough that the direction was accepted; the question would come later.

They retrieved their supplies with a minimum of conversation with the Quartermaster; she was tall and foul tempered, and couldn’t seem to move them through the line fast enough.

“What was that all about?” Glennon asked as they claimed their requisitions and fled.

“Reported back to Lieutenant Killeen. She warned me that Quartermaster Threnn is a Loghain sympathizer. Still thinks the wardens killed King Cailan, all that.”

Glennon growled in his throat. “You can’t be serious.”

“Just telling you what I heard. Told Killeen we were from Highever, and she sent me running to you, with the warning about Threnn.”

Any answer Glennon might have made was forgotten as they reached the flag marked C-12.

It was tucked in the middle of a set of healthy pines, against a gentle roll of rock. A gap in the trees showed a perfect easterly view of the lake, where the rising sun would have a clear shot at warming the chill morning air in their tent. The wind seemed to stop as they stood in the middle of the flags marking off the corners of their campsite.

They were at the corner of the C-block, with squares eleven through one marching in a row away from the lake and thirteen on a rough patch inside the copse of trees, where any attempt at sleeping would be stymied by decades of broken twigs and pinecones. There were others setting up in the C-block, the rest of them being assigned in order, the worse spots being skipped until the end or handed to people who annoyed Brown. The next row over was the tail end of B-block, currently empty. Higgins assumed A and B were being assigned to the army being built, while temporary lodging was in D block. Volunteers stood between the two, in C. The nearest tents Higgins could see were some fifty or sixty paces off, a set of five smaller dwellings that seemed unlikely to house more than one. If his guess was right, those belonged to Killeen, Brown, and whatever other Lieutenants had already signed on under Commander Rutherford.

“Best spot, indeed,” Higgins said gratefully.

“As soon as we fill this contract,” Glennon breathed.

He didn’t have to finish. Higgins nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.

They would have to leave when the Conclave concluded, escort the Bann and the rest of the delegation back to Redcliffe. But there was nothing keeping them from turning heel and returning straightaway to Haven, to join the sure-to-swell ranks of men forming there.

 

*

 

They were found by Lieutenant Brown at dinner that night, served at Third Bell at the common fire just inside the gates.

“Higgins! Glennon!” he said, approaching them as they walked out of the line, juggling bread and heavy bowls of stew with full mugs of rich Fereldan ale on the uneven ground.

“Ser,” Higgins said, despairing as he attempted a salute.

“We don’t stand on ceremony around here, not like that,” Brown said with a laugh. “Even if we did, I can see your hands are full. But not even the Commander demands a salute.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser,” Higgins said gratefully. Glennon was carrying his corner of a loaf of bread in his mouth, and merely nodded as they walked.

“I’m splitting you up, and I wanted to explain why,” Brown said as he followed them back to the C-Block fire. Individual camps wouldn’t have their own fires – too risky, too much firewood to carry – so each block was arranged around a communal fire pit and maintained by the same team who tended the hearths inside Haven.

“That’s… really very thoughtful of you, ser. Thank you.”

Brown grinned at them. “Killeen says you grew up together, and normally I would want to keep you together. But since you’re just volunteers, one of you needs to be available for any work the Bann needs done. We have five Lieutenants, and each is responsible for the entire watch during one shift. That responsibility cycles, so each unit works all four shifts in four days and has a fifth day off. It makes sense once you get into it, and is far and away the most fair system I’ve seen. Anyways – Glennon, you’re with me. We have First tomorrow, so you’ll need to report to the gates by Fourth bell tonight. Higgins, you’re with Killeen. She’s got Fourth tomorrow, so you need to be at the gate at Third. If you want dinner, there’s a separate line for guards going on duty that you should get into early. They’ll make sure you eat before your watch starts.”

“So we don’t have any overlap with one another?” Glennon said, as he’d sat the bread in his lap once they’d been seated at their fire.

“No. I’m sorry about that – like I said, normally I would keep you together. But since you have other obligations…”

“Question, ser,” Higgins said between mouths of stew. “First, have you eaten?”

Brown grinned. “I have, thank you.”

“Alright. Second, if we were to return to Haven after our contract is filled, after returning the Bann to Redcliffe after the Conclave, would we be put into the same shift as before, or would we be cycled into the same unit?”

“As much as I would like to say I’d split you up, if only so you were harder to confuse – you realize you could pass as brothers, right – we wouldn’t. I suspect Killeen and I will fight over you, but I’ll make sure you’re together, wherever that may be.”

The two men-at-arms smiled happily at Lieutenant Brown, who kept grinning as he stood to leave.

“That said. Glennon, I’ll see you at the gate in six hours. Sorry for the short notice. I will keep in mind you’ve not had a chance to rest properly, I promise. Higgins, at the gate at Third Bell.”

They both nodded, and then Brown disappeared into the crowd, calling to other inhabitants of C-block, already knowing many of their names by sight, and giving them their assignments.

Higgins was woken up shortly after First Bell when Glennon stumbled into their tent and collapsed, yet dressed, into his cot. He rose, mindful of his friend’s snores, and made a point to get breakfast before the kitchen closed. He spent the day wandering the camp, investigating Haven, learning the guard rotation, and watching for any traffic into Haven that might bear correspondence for the Bann up at the Temple.

He reported to the gate right before Third Bell, having eaten and already cleaned and returned his mess kit to the tent. His very first watch as a volunteer at Haven lasted a grand total of thirty minutes.

As a shockwave ripped down the mountain, shaking the needles out of the trees and whelming them all to their knees, Higgins looked to Lieutenant Killeen. The shock on her face mirrored his own. The sudden roar of the explosion knocked him on his face as, unbeknownst to him, his employment with the Inquisition began.


	2. The Survivor

“We are sticking to our watch,” Killeen said, reining in the chaos that erupted in her company after the explosion. “There are four other companies – one of them off today – that will respond. We will keep Haven secure. You have your assignments – get to them!”

Higgins had been assigned to gate duty with a gruff old veteran of the Blight named Varlan. On this night, that translated to standing at the gate and watching every other soldier, armed and in varying stages of panic, stream out of Haven towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

Commander Rutherford was one of the first out the gate, having co-opted Lieutenant Rylen’s company and left Rylen responsible for directing all incoming traffic out of Haven and away from the Temple. The next company to mobilize was Lieutenant Brown’s; Glennon managed to slap Higgins’ shoulder on his way through the gate and up the mountain.

Rylen’s men came down the mountain to relieve Killeen’s company from Watch at Fourth Bell, who were in turn sent to get six hours of sleep and then come up the mountain. The new guard rotation called for 12 hours on the mountain, six hours on guard in Haven and the surround, and then six hours of sleep.

What that meant for Higgins was that he and the rest of Killeen’s company were asleep when the troops on the mountain finally cleared the debris from the road and were immediately attacked by demons. When Tamson’s company came down to take their turn at guard rotation (and then sleep), the news of a bitter battle to the crater where the Temple used to stand spread like wildfire.

Killeen’s company raced to the top of the mountain to reinforce the Commander. The losses were already devastating; Tamson claimed to have lost a full quarter of his unit.

The bodies littering the causeway backed up his claim. Higgins couldn’t help but check every corpse he passed, telling at a glance that _that wasn’t Glennon_.

Glennon was yet alive – and somehow fighting at Cullen’s right hand. Higgins was taken aback by their opponent – he’d never seen a demon before, but there was no other word for the creature of fire and hatred that swung at Glennon’s face. He paused long enough to draw his sword and dagger, and threw himself into the fray at his friend’s side.

“About fucking time you decided to join us,” Glennon panted, adjusting his shield to provide cover for his friend.

“Had a lovely nap after guard duty, wanted to be fresh as a daisy before coming on this little jaunt,” Higgins replied. The demon sputtered out of existence in a spray of green ooze, spitted by a crossbow bolt from somewhere downslope. They had only a moment to breathe before another creature took its place.

They were pushing the demons back – they still had numbers on their side – but there didn’t seem to be anything they could do to close the hole in the air the demons were systematically popping out of. The swirling mass of green electrified cloud high above them was patently unbelievable. To a man, the soldiers focused on the things they could do something about: kill the demon, kill the demon that took its place, repeat.

Higgins was edging towards the green rift, morbidly curious about the twisting magic in the air, when it suddenly flared brightly and seemed to swell. When demons were spawning, streams of green would stretch out in every direction, the creatures appearing wherever the magic touched the ground. But this was different – for one heartbeat in time, the rift turned transparent, showing a woman standing at the top of a twisted mountain. She seemed to glow, and Higgins got the distinct impression that she was _holy_ , although he couldn’t explain why. A second woman suddenly appeared beside the first, and then she was flying through the rift, tumbling out as the green window turned opaque behind her.

She was human, female, and unspeakably filthy. Her clothes were singed and torn, and what was intact had soot ground into it. Her coat gaped open obscenely, but her battered skin was visible only for a moment; she immediately fell onto her face, unconscious.

“Commander!” Glennon called, racing towards the woman.

“Hold!” Lieutenant Everitt’s voice barked, stopping Glennon in his tracks. “Look at her hand!”

Her left hand was glowing green – the vivid sickly green of the rift, of the demons, of the swirling cloud above their heads.

“Fucking mage,” the Lieutenant growled, drawing his sword. Like Lieutenant Rylen, Everitt was a former ‘Marcher templar who had followed the Commander to Haven. “Blew up the fucking Conclave, broke open the sky. Demonic _bitch_.”

“Everitt! Stand down!” the Commander bellowed, sword naked in his hand, freshly wiped clean of demon blood.

As if in response, the green glow in the woman’s left hand pulsed, and a new batch of demons started to materialize out of the rift.

“Mageling _bitch_ ,” Everitt said, continuing his approach. “Murderous maleficar.”

“Lieutenant Everitt, one more step and I will spit you myself.”

The former templar froze, glancing over his shoulder at the Commander.

“If she is guilty, she will answer for her crimes. But first she must be made to _fix this mess_. Which she _cannot do_ if you run her through. _Stand down_.”

“Yes, ser,” Everitt mumbled, taking a few jerking steps back.

A half-dozen rage demons shouldered out of the green pools streaming from the rift. The Commander started directing their defense, gesturing with his sword and calling out orders. His last two commands were for the unconscious woman on the ground. “Higgins! Glennon! Take… whoever _that_ is down to Haven. Find Rylen, tell him what you saw and get the Nightingale involved.”

If Glennon faltered at mention of the Left Hand of the Divine, it only made Higgins move faster. He raced to the unconscious woman, rolling her over to her back, pausing long enough to arrange her clothes in some semblance of modesty. Glennon appeared on her other side, and they pulled her arms over their shoulders and bent her knees over their arms, creating a human sling for her to ride in.

The trip off the mountain was hellish. Rifts seemed to open around them as they passed, the woman’s left hand twitching and flaring with light with each new tear in the air. Men were streaming up the mountain, desperate to keep the Commander from being cut off. They could hear the retreat being sounded behind them as they descended, and could only hope their comrades survived long enough to escape.

Rylen had reduced the men remaining in Haven to a skeleton force, sending every body he could up to support the Commander. “A survivor?” he asked hopefully as Glennon and Higgins staggered up, the yet-unconscious woman slung between them.

“She fell out of a rift,” Glennon gasped, struggling for breath. “Commander sent us to you, said to get the Nightingale.”

Rylen jerked his head, indicating they should follow, and led them into the Chantry.

“A survivor?” a thin redhead said in a tilted Orlesian accent, racing towards them as they entered.

“Not quite,” Rylen responded. They carried her into an antechamber and laid her onto the floor. Glennon sprawled inelegantly onto the stones nearby, not having the luxury of the nap Higgins had gotten.

“She fell out of the rift, at the Temple,” Higgins said, fighting for breath. “There was a woman behind her, a glowing apparition in the Fade. And then this woman was standing beside her, and then she _came through_ and landed unconscious on the ground. Lieutenant Everitt saw her hand and said she was a maleficar, that she was the one who destroyed the Temple. Commander Rutherford had Glennon and I bring her to you. Commander specifically said to get the Nightingale involved.”

“Well, you have done your duty, for I am definitely involved,” the woman said, and Glennon swallowed hard.

“You seem to be in better shape than your friend,” she continued. “Find me the elven mage, Solas. He is supposed to be waiting in one of the huts near the tavern, with Adan and Varric. I think he is the only mage who did not take the road to the Temple.”

Higgins saluted – a clenched fist to the heart – and fled the room. He could hear the Nightingale begin to question Glennon as the door swung shut behind him.

The elf, Solas, was standing on the thatched roof of Adan’s hut, staring at the Breach in open horror.

“My lord Solas?” Higgins called from the ground.

The slender mage’s head snapped around to stare at him. “That is my name, but I fear you can ascribe me no such title. Who sends for me?”

“The Nightingale. A woman… fell from the rift. I was sent to-“

Higgins got no further before Solas was scrambling off the roof, hitting the ground in a roll and pivoting on his heel to grab a knapsack and staff that were leaning against the wall of the hut. “Show me,” he demanded.

Higgins set off at a run, confident the mage was hard on his heels. They were back in the Chantry within moments, their footsteps echoing in the hall as Higgins returned to the room he had left Glennon and the woman in.

It stood empty.

“Where-“ Solas began, the anger crackling in his voice.

“They were right here, this is where I-“

“Higgins!” Rylen called to them from the big double doors at the Chantry entrance. “We’ve moved her, follow me.”

Higgins and Solas rushed to follow the Lieutenant. It was almost immediately clear that he was taking them to the dungeon beneath the ancient building.

“You can’t be serious,” Higgins said, half to himself.

“Seeker Pentaghast’s order. Given Everitt’s reaction, you could argue it’s for her safety as much as anyone else’s.”

Rylen stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs, opening it to allow Solas access to the cells. “Last one on the left. Higgins, collect Glennon. Get yourselves six hours of downtime and then get back up the mountain.”

Glennon was clinging to the bars of the cell, staring at the woman blindly out of exhaustion. Solas had already entered, and had fallen to his knees at her left side when Higgins reached the cell.

“Should not be, should not _be_ …” the elf whispered, stricken.

“Well?” an angry Navarran asked from a darkened corner of the cell. “Just what in the Maker’s name is she?”

Higgins pulled one of Glennon’s arms over his shoulders and the two made their way out of the cell block.

“Your salvation,” the elf’s voice ghosted up from behind them. “Should she live.”


	3. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...salvation part 1, I suppose. The first time the Herald pull everybody's ass out of the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are caught up to the beginning of Of Fear And Lyrium! This chapter overlaps with the first chapter of OFFAL/Part 1.

32 hours after the explosion at the Temple, the Commander had changed his strategy from victory to survival.

Haven was to be protected at all costs, the demons limited to the mountain as best as possible. The one road up to the Temple was slowly cleared of soldiers, and then fortified from the village up.

As the Breach grew, more rifts appeared, farther and farther from the first. Eventually, Commander Rutherford pulled them all back to the causeway, and dropped every available resource into fortifying the gates on either end.

By the morning of the fourth day, rifts were appearing between the causeway and Haven, and the Commander began laying lines of retreat, to pull everyone out of Haven and fight a rear action out of the mountains. Killeen had brought him a cup of coffee – Antivan and hard to come by, from someone in the kitchen who had been saving it for a rainy day and decided it was pouring out. He savored it, giving himself five minutes’ reprieve; he hadn’t slept since the morning of the explosion, and the constant draw was definitely getting to him. By this time the next day, he hoped to have Haven evacuated and have the remains of the town between them and the Breach.

“Commander!” Leliana’s voice was a whipcrack across the causeway.

“Yes? News?”

“Cassandra’s prisoner is awake.”

Killeen put a hand out to accept the now-empty mug. The women from the rift seemed like the last thing to burden the Commander with, but it wasn’t Killeen’s place to say as much. Not in front of the Nightingale, at least. Rutherford encouraged them all to speak freely, but some things were simply suicidal.

“Oh, so she lived. Wonderful. I hope you’re not looking for an escort to take her to Val Royeaux. I’m fresh out of expendable men.”

Killeen snorted, and Rutherford managed a quick smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. Killeen suspected the jest had been for her benefit; the Commander kept their morale at the forefront of his concerns.

“Cassandra is bringing her up. Aren’t you going to ask how I managed to get here from Haven alone?”

She had a point. Killeen risked a glance at the Commander – his confusion was plain.

“She’s closing the rifts, just as Solas believed she could. Cassandra is taking her up to the Temple, to try to close the Breach itself.”

The Commander set his shoulders, cracking his neck and gesturing for Rylen, who stood near the door across the causeway.

“Get whoever you can,” he said to them both when Rylen drew near. ”Whoever is intact and able to swing a sword. We will start to clear her path.”

“She will come here, first,” Leliana protested. “If you delay-“

“If we delay, there may be nothing left to save. Maker guide your path, Leliana.”

Higgins and Glennon were asleep in the corner, having collapsed when they returned to the causeway some four hours before.

“We’ve got orders,” Killeen said, nudging Higgins gently with her boot. He snapped immediately awake.

“Sounding the retreat?”

“You wish,” she said softly. “One last push.”

Higgins swallowed, hard, and shook Glennon awake. “Great news! We’re going back up the mountain!”

Glennon snorted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Fantastic. Lead the way.”

 

An hour later, Glennon and Higgins were shoulder-and-shoulder some fifteen paces away from Rylen and Rutherford, hacking and slashing their way through the endless tide of demons.

Everitt fell, ripped nearly in two by a being of pure rage. The veteran of the Blight that Higgins had met the night of the explosion, Varlan, had a Terror explode out of the ground at his feet, throwing him backwards and opening his skull on the rocks at the bottom of a ravine. People Higgins had met and fought with – but whose names he hadn’t the chance to learn – were killed horribly around him as Glennon’s shield kept him safe and his swords defended the small patch of earth they stood upon.

“Commander!” the Nightingale’s tilted accent carried across the field. “We have a plan! We’re going around! Minimize your losses!”

She made a few quick gestures, her voice lost to the sounds of battle, and the fifteen men closest to her trotted off the field at her back.

Higgins would have been pissed, if he’d had a chance to think about it. Within half an hour, the tide of demons began to thin. They had been steadily falling back to the causeway, but suddenly they were gaining ground. Another fifteen minutes saw a pause in the battle, as the demons streaming down the path ceased.

The Commander only waited long enough for water to be passed around and to select those with the least injuries before leading them towards the Temple.

They met almost no resistance along the way – a handful of wisps, a single rage demon, and gradually more and more lumpy piles of ooze that marked where a demon had once stood. When they topped the rise to the Temple, they were met by a muffled explosion that set them all diving for cover. The Breach seemed to fall still, retracting a little into itself. By the time they reformed and resumed the march up the mountain, Seeker Cassandra met them heading the opposite direction.

“She has closed the Prime Rift,” she told the Commander without preamble. “The Breach has stopped growing, for now, and the demons have ceased. We are out of immediate danger.”

“Where is she?” Higgins heard himself ask before realizing he’d spoken. Killeen coughed a laugh from a few paces behind him. Neither the Seeker nor the Commander seemed to mind the interruption. “Unconscious,” the Right Hand of the Divine answered, gesturing to those who followed. Leliana, the half-squad she’d stolen from the battle earlier, a battered squad of scouts, and Solas came up the path behind her. In their midst was a dwarf, shirt open to expose an overabundance of chest hair, with what could have been the same woman Higgins had carried off the mountain three days prior slung over his shoulder. She was light, he recalled vaguely, and surely the stocky dwarf would have no trouble carrying her downhill on his own. She was short enough that neither her feet nor her knuckles were in too much danger of dragging on the ground.

“Do you need assistance, Varric?” Commander Rutherford asked as the dwarf neared.

“No, Curly, Ginger here is light as a feather. I figure a free ride downhill is the least I can do for her, since she just pulled all our asses out of the fire.”

Orders were called, the company turned, and they trooped downhill, unexpectedly victorious.

The causeway was evacuated, and everyone was brought to Haven for a headcount and reorganization. Volunteers were taken to cover first watch, and everyone else was sent immediately to their bunks.

As Higgins and Glennon fell into their cots in their sun-warmed tent, they took a moment to exchange a brief hug. Somehow, impossibly, they’d both survived. Glennon’s left arm was wrapped from shoulder to elbow from a Terror that yanked his shield down in an attempt to rake his face. Higgins was missing the little toe on his right foot from an arrow that had deflected when the archer who loosed it was ripped apart by a rage demon. Beyond that, and an overwhelming exhaustion, they were unharmed.

“Our salvation, if she survives,” Glennon echoed their memory of Solas’ words.

“She survived,” Higgins replied.

The woman they had seen fall from the Fade had saved them all.

 

*

 

Higgins woke up at Fourth bell, to find Glennon already gone. He dressed quickly, staggering into the darkness to find the C-block bathing tent warm but empty. He washed as thoroughly as he dared, his body still on war footing. The kitchen was serving soup round-the-clock until everyone got their internal clocks readjusted, and Higgins found Glennon eating at the main fire with the dwarf who had been carrying their savior off the mountain that afternoon.

“Higgins! You’re alive!” his friend called, waving for him to join them. Higgins delayed only long enough to be handed a meal and then dropped to the log serving as a bench beside the dwarf.

“Varric Tethras,” he introduced himself. “Higgins” came the grunted reply.

“Varric’s an author,” Glennon said helpfully between bites. “He travelled with the Champion of Kirkwall.”

Higgins managed a nod. In his mind he was trying to remember the last time he’d eaten. The morning after the explosion, maybe? Lunch, two days past? It definitely hadn’t been recent. The soup was more vegetable than broth, and Higgins was grateful – not for the first time, nor even the fifth – that he had fallen in with an organization that seemed to truly value its soldiers. Glennon and Varric continued the conversation without him, as he desperately stuffed his face.

“Of the five officers below the Commander, only Everitt was lost,” Glennon was saying as Higgins scraped the bottom of his bowl. Varric gestured for Higgins to hand it over, and the dwarf stood and made his way to the huge kettle of soup on the fire, refilling the bowl and bringing it back. “There’s more where that came from – a week ago we had supplies enough to feed everyone for three fortnights, and with the losses… well, there’s plenty enough to go around for now.”

“Has there been a headcount yet?” Higgins asked his friend after thanking the dwarf for the refill.

“There are… four hundred or so left, that we know of,” Glennon answered slowly. Higgins had to swallow down a sudden rush of bile in his throat, setting the soup aside until he could get his stomach under control.

“Maker… over a thousand dead?”

“Closer to two, when you consider how many were up at the Conclave.”

Higgins dropped his head in his hands. It was several long minutes – during which Glennon and Varric were silent – before he had settled enough to keep eating. The soup had lost its flavor, but he knew he would need the energy.

There were a lot of bodies to burn.


	4. Named

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes meet their savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapters 1 and 2 of Of Fear and Lyrium  
> Warning: f-bombs

Higgins and Glennon volunteered for Second Watch that day, since they’d woken up too late for First, the mid-of-night shift. Higgins was leaning against the gates to Haven, trying to come to grips with the comparative silence of a mere 400 souls, when a young elven woman came scrambling out of the hut where their savior had been laid. He’d met her the day before the explosion, a serving girl by the name of Aieyla. He caught her eye and she stumbled over to him. “She’s awake,” she said. “Blessed Andraste herself sent her into our world and I was fool enough to be present when she woke up. Me! I’m lucky to be scrubbing her smalls.”

“What did she say?” Higgins asked, trying to calm the girl down.

“Something about dog men ale, and then I don’t know. I told her Lady Cassandra wanted to see her – in the Chantry – and she asked me a number of questions I couldn’t answer.”

“Like what? Maybe I could answer them for her?”

“No, no, not like that. My name! She asked my name, and what time it was, and I couldn’t speak, couldn’t bear…”

Higgins found himself laughing, and her fright began to shift into a simmering rage.

“So she tried to treat you like a person and you panicked?”

Aieyla slapped him, hard, across the shoulder, managing to strike him in the gap between pauldrons and bracers. Any reply she might make was lost when the door to the hut behind her swung open.

A crowd had been gathering since the sun rose, what few surviving inhabitants of Haven there were, waiting to lay eyes on their salvation.

She was slender, Higgins knew, and the form that slid out of the darkened room into the bright morning sun was thinner than he remembered. She had been unconscious for the better part of the last four days, however, so some wasting was to be expected. She wore no gloves, and the green light around her left hand immediately marked her as the woman he’d seen fall out of the rift. She was clean, now, and dressed in what looked like new leather armor. She wore no weapon, but her hands clenched as if wishing she were armed. She held her left arm stiffly, as if it were arthritic or broken. As she hesitated, looking out at the accumulated crowd, Higgins felt a surge of pity for her.

She was barely older than him, maybe Glennon’s age. She had the bearing of a noble, but the soft youth of her face was marred by pain and what could only be fear.

She definitely hadn’t asked for any of this.

Her face came into the sunlight, then, and the ruddy glow of her hair suddenly explained Varric’s referring to her as Ginger. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but someone in the crowd beat her to it.

“Herald!” a woman’s voice cried, as if unable to help herself.

“Sent by Andraste herself,” another voice said.

A cacophony of whispers erupted, as she was called by anything other than her name.

Higgins realized he didn’t know what it was.

“Did she tell you her name?” he asked Aieyla. The elf peered at him from under blonde bangs and shook her head sadly. “I didn’t think to ask.”

“It seems nobody has,” Higgins said, letting his disappointment be heard in his tone.

Aieyla shifted uncomfortably at his side as they watched the woman – their savior, the Herald – square her shoulders and push through a throng who fell silent as she passed but erupted back into increasingly louder murmurs the farther away she moved.

“Lonely lot,” Higgins said as she turned up the hill towards the heavy doors to the Chantry.

Aieyla took a deep breath. “You’re right. Fell from the Fade or not, she has to put her knickers on before her pants, just like all the rest of us.”

Higgins was still at the gate when, half an hour later, she emerged from the Chantry in open flight. Chancellor Roderick had appeared shortly after she entered, in an open fit of rage. She wasted no time putting as much distance between herself and whatever had passed inside the ancient stone building.

He watched her – as nothing was likely to come from the other side of the gate any time soon, not with the surviving soldiers gradually coming out to begin volunteering for guard and funeral duties and the Lieutenants circulating for status reports. He watched her stop, exchange a few words with Threnn, and could see the angry set of her shoulders when she finally strode away.

She picked her way through Haven, stopping frequently to speak with those she passed, often pausing to eavesdrop with a lopsided grin on her face. Higgins was able to listen in on her conversation with Varric, a few paces away at the main fire. The dwarf seemed comfortable with her, and while they discussed the red lyrium at the Temple – a concept that chilled Higgins to the bone – they also fought over Varric’s insistence on calling her Ginger. Higgins waited for either of them to say her real name, but it never came up.

Her next stop was to meet the shopkeeper who had set up near the gate, and she turned away from him with a look of blatant mistrust on her face.

Her eyes met Higgins’, then, and he grinned widely at her.

She seemed surprised, and took a few tentative steps towards him. “Hello,” she said cautiously.

“My Lady,” he replied. “How are you feeling today?”

Her answering smile was like the sunrise. “Like pure unadulterated shit, but thank you very much for asking. And, please, for the love of all that’s good in the world, don’t ever call me ‘my lady’. How are you?”

He tried unsuccessfully to hide his laugh. “Feeling blessed to be alive, if I’m honest. You are looking much better now than when I first saw you.”

She cocked her head at an angle, causing a thick lock of hair to fall into her face. “Were you at the Breach yesterday?”

“No, I was with the Commander. I assume that was you Varric dragged off the mountain.”

It was her turn to laugh. “It was! I am becoming known for my spectacular entrances and undignified exits, it seems.”

“You are indeed. I’m surprised you have any skin on your face, from your initial fall four days ago.”

Her face softened as she seemed to understand what he was saying. “You were at the Breach when I came out of the rift.”

“Yes, ser. My friend Glennon and I carried you to the Chantry.”

“I owe you my thanks, then.”

Higgins brought a clenched fist to his chest in response. “No more so than we all owe you ours, ser.”

She laughed again, a soft sound that would have been easy to miss if he wasn’t looking for it. “Fair enough.”

“Is there something you’re looking for, ser?” He asked when she didn’t immediately make any moves to leave.

“I’m not sure,” she answered slowly. “I feel… out of place.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

Her smile came back with a vengeance. “Absolutely.”

“My first day here, I tried to get a feel for the place. I watched the guard rotation, figured out where people lived and where things happened. You might introduce yourself to Flissa, she’s the tavern keeper. She has her finger to the pulse of everything that happens here. I walked all the way around the village, to understand how things were laid out. It might help you get settled in. It worked for me, at least.”

“That is… the best idea I’ve heard in ages,” she admitted happily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She went to walk away, and suddenly stopped, took two steps backward, and spun on her heel to face him.

“I am so sorry,” she said softly. “I should have asked your name.”

“Higgins, ser,” he said with a wide smile.

The lady gave him the clench-fist salute and turned to walk away again.

“Ser?” He asked, before he lost the courage.

“Yes?” She replied, stopping and turning back.

“Forgive me, ser, but no one… at least, no one I’ve met… what is _your_ name?”

That sunrise of a smile came back, this time with a glistening of her eyes. “Evelyn,” she answered. “Evelyn Trevelyan.”

“Thank you, ser.”

“Oh, no. Thank _you_ , Higgins.”

There was a lightness in her step as she walked away, and Higgins felt his chest swell a bit with pride at the sight of it.

For the rest of the morning, the ruddy glow of her hair caught his eye as she covered every inch of ground in Haven. She made a bee-line for the tavern, much to Higgins’ delight, and from there met with Minaeve and Adan before spending a goodly while in conversation with Solas. She gave Higgins a friendly wave on her way through the gates, to which he returned a brisk salute.

When she perched on the rail near the blacksmith’s forge and rattled off a seemingly endless barrage of questions at Master Harritt, Higgins allowed himself a laugh. There was something so undeniably approachable and _human_ about her that he found completely heartwarming. The Breach yet twisted in the sky, but her smile and easy manner filled him with the conviction that it was only a matter of time before she led them to victory against it.

Not for the first time, Higgins thanked the Maker that he had fallen in with this group of people.

The Herald – Evelyn, he decided he would call her, if only in his head – was disappearing down the lane into the comparative wilderness around Haven when Glennon wandered over. “Spent all morning tallying up supplies for the Commander. Just finished. Need any company?”

Higgins nodded, glad to see his friend. “You just missed her.”

“Just missed who?” Glennon asked, taking up position on the opposite side of the gate.

“The Herald of Andraste. She’s been wandering through camp all morning. She stopped to talk to me.”

“Bullshit.”

“No lie. And you’ll never guess who she actually is.”

“You asked? You ballsy bastard.”

“Evelyn Trevelyan. Sounds familiar?”

Glennon whistled through his teeth, eyes wide. “Isn’t that the name of the kid that ‘Marcher prick wanted to hire us to watch?”

Higgins nodded gleefully. “The Maker brought us here, Glennon. One way or the other, this is where we are meant to be.”

Killeen was the next familiar face to come through the gates, and she stopped to talk to them both.

“You’re on the payroll, I hope you know,” she said lightly. “We’re going to backdate your pay to the time of the explosion. If you want to leave, tell me now, otherwise we’re adding you to the rolls.”

They fell over themselves reassuring her they had no desire to leave. “I was just telling Glennon, the Maker himself brought us here. If we hadn’t taken the contract to follow the Bann, we were going to work for Lord Trevelyan in Ostwick to follow his daughter Evelyn. And yet she came to Haven, became the Herald. One way or the other, we were bound for here, ser.”

Killeen shook her head in disbelief. “Have you seen her yet?”

Higgins pointed down the path. “She went that way, maybe half an hour ago. She’s getting the feel for Haven.”

“Know her that well already, do you?” Killeen teased.

“No, ser. It was the advice I gave her, when she said she felt out of place.”

His Lieutenant seemed to freeze in place. “What, you stood here and had a conversation?”

Higgins nodded vigorously. “You ought to give it a try. She seems real eager to get along.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Glennon hissed that she was on her way back. Higgins and Killeen turned to see her slogging through the snow with a book tucked under her arm and the other hand full of plants. She walked right up to Higgins and stopped at his side, grinning widely. “I’m up to my asshole in elfroot out here,” she said without preamble.

Higgins laughed, while Killeen stiffened in shock and Glennon’s jaw dropped. Evelyn shifted uncomfortably under their gaze before turning back to Higgins.

“This is my Lieutenant, ser, Lieutenant Killeen. And my best friend since I was but a boy, Glennon. We came here together.”

Evelyn made a weak attempt at a salute, with her arms full, and then laughed at herself easily. “Pleased to meet you both.”

Killeen recovered quickly, snapping her fist to her breastplate. “The pleasure is mine, my lady Herald.”

Evelyn scowled at her. “She would rather not be called ‘my lady,’ ser,” Higgins said before Evelyn had a chance to reply.

Her scowl immediately melted away. “Why, thank you, Higgins.”

He snapped another salute. “My pleasure, ser.”

“I’ll be back through in a moment. I need to take this to Adan,” she said, excusing herself with another smile. Higgins waved her through, prompting another quick laugh as she made her way up the winding lane to the alchemist’s hut.

“Andraste’s bleeding asshole, you’re fucking insane,” Glennon breathed.

Killeen was shaking her head. “No, he’s the only one of us with his head on straight. She might be our bloody savior, but the woman is still a _person_. She’ll be a better leader if we don’t stick her on a pedestal. Cullen taught us that.”

Glennon coughed a laugh. “Cullen, is it? On a first name basis with the Commander?”

Killeen made a rude gesture at him, prompting him and Higgins both to laugh. “He was a templar, you twat. Templars are called by their first names, not their last. He prefers Commander Cullen to Commander Rutherford. He’s more used to it.”

Higgins grunted. “I hope he doesn’t want us to follow suit.”

“Oh, for my sake I hope he does,” Killeen joked as she settled against the wall beside Glennon. “Then I’ll get to hear what “Morty” is short for.”

“With all due respect,” Higgins replied easily, “ser, you can go fuck yourself.”

They were still laughing when the Herald came back to the gate, this time with empty hands. “Question,” she said, again without preamble.

“Answer,” Killeen replied with a smile.

“I found an abandoned lumber stand out in the woods,” she gestured off towards the lake. “Who would I talk to about it?”

“Me,” Killeen said, surprised. “I can send one of the boys here out with you to mark it and then we’ll organize a team to start hauling the lumber in.”

“Oh. Well, what great timing we have. Thank you, Lieutenant Killeen.”

Killeen blinked at her, uncertainly, before slowly cracking the smirking smile Higgins enjoyed. “You’re quite welcome, ser.”

“Can this be a thing?” Evelyn asked with a grin. “Can everybody just call me ‘ser’? Maybe we abandon all this ‘Herald’ nonsense before I get hit by lightning?”

“Absolutely not,” Killeen answered evenly, as Glennon and Higgins hissed their displeasure and Evelyn frowned. “My apologies, ser, but it is absolutely critical to the morale of the people here that you’re acknowledged as the savior you are. They chose to make that acknowledgement by calling you the Herald of Andraste. And, sorry to say it, you’re going to have to suck it up and take it.”

Glennon’s jaw dropped. Evelyn stood looking at Killeen for long enough that Higgins was convinced she was going to draw out her burning left hand and smite Killeen into nothingness.

“Well,” the Herald murmured. “Fuck. If you put it _that_ way…”

Both Glennon and Higgins swiveled their heads sharply when they heard the curse on her lips, and she laughed at their reaction.

“Duly noted, Lieutenant Killeen. I will put on my big girl pants but I do _not_ have to like it.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to, Herald,” Killeen answered easily, and the two women grinned at one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the language is intentional. My husband is an army veteran, and something about coarse language and the military goes hand-in-hand. Some of the swearing is gratuitous - but I really feel like it is accurate representations of the characters.


	5. Admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows directly on the heels of the previous chapter.

“Higgins!” Killeen turned to face him. “Follow the Herald to her logging stand and mark its location. I’ll get a team mobilized, report to me on your return.”

“Yes, ser,” he said, clanging a fist to his breastplate and turning to follow Evelyn into the woods.

“Where are you from?” she asked, conversationally, after they were away from the staring eyes and whispering voices in town.

“Highever, ser.”

“That’s in northern Ferelden, is it not?”

“It is, ser.”

“You’re going to work the word ‘ser’ into every sentence, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ser. I am going to give it my best, ser.”

She laughed helplessly, and Higgins grinned at her. “All right, my cheeky sirrah. I’m going to pump you for information while we take our little walk, since you insist on being deferential.”

“That seems fair, ser.”

“Threnn. She a flaming bitch to everybody or just me?”

Higgins barked a laugh. “I might not be the best judge, ser, coming from Highever like I do. Its hard to like a Loghain sympathizer, even this long after the Blight, ser.”

“So, bitch to everybody, got it. How about your command? Good people?”

Higgins grinned widely. “The best, ser. I came here with a delegation from Redcliffe, Fereldan nobles, and as soon as I set foot in Haven I started counting down the time until my contract was filled and I could sign on permanently here. The Commander treats us like, well – like people, ser. And his officers and fair, decent people.”

“How many survived from the Conclave?” she asked, the sudden seriousness in her tone surprising him.

“One, ser,” he answered quietly, and she stopped in her tracks.

“One… besides me?”

“No, ser. Only you.”

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes. “Is it certain?”

“Yes, ser.” He waited several long minutes, turning to the side to give her some privacy to deal with the news. When the silence was becoming unbearable, he drummed up the courage to say, “We all lost someone, but the rest of us have all had days now to come to grips with it. I’m sorry for your loss, ser, and doubly sorry I couldn’t break it to you easier.”

“Who did you lose?” she asked, and he turned back towards her to answer. “Friends, mostly. The closest was named Mallory, she took the job guarding that noble retinue en route to the Conclave and back, signed on because Glennon and I had. Thinking about it that way, it’s our fault she’s gone.”

Evelyn was shaking her head. “It is _some_ body’s fault. But that person isn’t you. The fault lies with whatever cretin decided to blow up the Conclave.”

Higgins nodded. “Who did you lose, ser?”

Evelyn closed her eyes and tipped her chin to the ground, reaching up with one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “My brother, for one. Aaric. Pulled out of the safety of his home in Ostwick and sent along to keep me out of trouble – makes it hard not to blame myself, like you with Mallory. And my… friend. Edric, his name. Edric Cadash. And, Maker’s Breath… everyone I came here with. There was a dozen of us in the party. I hadn’t known them long, but still. The fact that my horse was at the Temple, and everything I owned that I gave a shit about was there… the material wealth seems so petty, when I think that the only people I’ve ever loved are dead.”

Higgins stood stark still beside her, stunned silent. “Andraste’s flaming knickers, Evelyn. I’m sorry.”

She coughed a laugh, looking at him with shining eyes, and he met her sudden smile with one of his own. “Thank you,” she said, reaching across to clap him companionably on the shoulder. “But don’t let Killeen hear you call me Evelyn, the poor woman might have kittens.”

Higgins laughed, then, and motioned for her to lead the way up through the woods. “Understood, ser.”

They reached the logging stand shortly thereafter, and Higgins made note of its location relative to Haven. “I will go report this to Lieutenant Killeen,” he told the Herald. “Are you returning to Haven with me, ser, or are you off to hide in the woods?”

Evelyn laughed, then, a long and genuine sound. “I am off to find some iron for Master Harritt, to get you poor bastards some better armor before you have to face any more demons. I was told to be in the Chantry at noon, so expect me back before then. I sincerely hope you don’t need to send a search party out after me.”

Higgins grinned at her, clanging his fist against his breast plate. “Rest easy knowing I will personally come to fetch you out of whatever snow drift you get lost in, should you not return by lunchtime, ser.”

Another pretty trill of a laugh, and she waved goodbye, slogging through the wood in a zigzag pattern to harvest elfroot as she went. Higgins followed their tracks back to Haven, widening the trail he left to make it easy to follow back to the logging stand. Glennon was still at the gates, but Killeen had gone up to report to the Commander; so with a wave at his friend, Higgins continued on to the tents near the Chantry.

“In one of the three huts just inside the gate, ser,” Killeen was saying as Higgins trotted up to them.

“Of bloody course she is,” the Commander grumbled, making a note on the ledger on the desk before him.

“She has the accent of a ‘Marcher,” Killeen said, brow crinkling thoughtfully. “Perhaps you met her in Kirkwall?”

“She’s not from Kirkwall,” Higgins said before he could stop himself. “Ostwick, she said.”

“Oh?” the Commander looked up at him, brows wide in what might have been mockery, if Higgins didn’t know better. “And you’ve chatted with her too, I suppose.”

With a glance to Killeen, who nodded encouragingly, Higgins tipped his head, _yes_. “I have, ser. She’s nobility from Ostwick, but you wouldn’t know from speaking to her. She brought back a book from the old alchemist’s hut for Adan and can’t walk through the woods without picking up elfroot.”

“She showed you that logging stand, Higgins?” Killeen asked as the Commander grumbled under his breath.

“She did, ser. I can take a team out to it at your leisure.”

“You’ve signed on with us permanently, Higgins?” the Commander asked, coming back into the conversation.

“I have, ser, me and Glennon both. Thrilled to be here.”

“Do you have a request for whose company you are assigned to?” the Commander shot a wry look at Killeen, who managed to look embarrassed.

Higgins tried to think his way through the question. “I’ve worked a bit with Lieutenant Rylen, but Glennon and I have gotten used to following Lieutenant Killeen here or Lieutenant Brown. If pressed, I would request only that Glennon and I stay together. We’ve been a team for a long time, now.”

Commander Cullen chuckled. “And together you shall be, I’ll make sure of it. Rylen’s a Marcher, and Brown’s an Antivan, so I should stick you with one of them rather than try to build an all-Fereldan unit under Killeen…”

“Whatever you decide, ser,” Higgins said, not trying to hide his confusion. “If I may, ser, the team for the lumber?”

“Waiting for you at the gate by now,” Killeen answered evenly.

“Yes, ser. On my way, ser.”

Cullen said something to Killeen as Higgins made his way back to the gate. He couldn’t make out the Commander’s words, but Killeen’s response was clear. “Oh, fuck you, Rutherford.”

 

*

 

It was creeping towards noon when Higgins returned once more to the gate, having shown the team to the logging stand, the trail between Haven and the lumber now almost impossible to miss. Aieyla was waiting for him at the gate when he got there, talking nervously with Glennon.

“There he is,” Glennon said, indicating Higgins over Aieyla’s shoulder, and she spun to greet him.

“Have you seen her? I haven’t seen her since this morning,” she said rapidly. “I’ve been thinking about what you said I just feel awful for how I reacted….”

“She’s out gathering iron,” Higgins answered, keenly aware of how he was the only person who seemed to know the Herald’s whereabouts. “She said she would be back by noon, so we should see her any time now.”

“She already brought the iron back to Harritt,” Glennon disagreed. “She was sitting over on the dock by the lake last I saw, but I haven’t had a very good vantage since they put up those tents there by the sparring ring.”

“The kitchen’s open,” Higgins said, glancing over at the fire. “Why don’t you take her some lunch?”

Aieyla nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, great idea.”

She was a flurry of activity, then, rushing to the hut for a bowl and mug and then racing to the kitchen for food before turning heel and heading for the lake with the Herald’s lunch.

Higgins expected her to be gone for a bit, but Aieyla was running back within minutes, empty handed.

“She was there?” he asked her, and she slowed to a halt next to him, face flushed.

“She looked so _sad_ ,” she answered. “She was just sitting there, alone, throwing rocks. I didn’t know what to say, so I gave her the bowl and then left her alone.”

“I had to tell her everyone in the Temple had died, that she was the only survivor,” Higgins told her, and Aieyla and Glennon both had no reply but downturned expressions.

Higgins and Glennon were being relieved by Third Watch when she came back up the hill to the gates, and Higgins set his heel to follow her to the Chantry. “Ooh, so I need an escort when I’m in town now, do I?” she teased him over her shoulder.

“Absolutely, ser, only the best for you, ser,” Higgins rattled off, and she slowed to a stop, laughing silently.

He stood beside her at attention while her shoulders shook.

“You glorious bastard,” she said finally. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, ser,” he said, letting his posture slip.

“Seriously, though, don’t you have someplace to be?”

“Lunch, ser. Just thought you could use some cheering up. Aieyla seemed concerned about you.”

“Is that the poor girl I frightened half to death this morning?”

Higgins couldn’t help but smirk. “Yes, ser. She means well.”

“Well, tell her thank you for the soup from me. And next time, she should stay and eat with me.”

“I will do that, ser, thank you. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

She smiled again, a dazzling show of teeth and happiness. “Why, thank you. I will try. You do the same.”

Higgins saluted and then trekked back down to the main fire, where Glennon was waiting with their mess kits. He wordlessly handed Higgins his bowl, spoon, and mug with a smile and a clap to the shoulder.

“Well done, kid,” Varric said, wandering over to stand near the line. “Keep it up and we’ll keep her sane while she’s keeping the world intact.”

“Thanks, Tethras,” Higgins replied, and the dwarf patted his shoulder before wandering off.


	6. Seeking the Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald makes a conscious effort to meet people.

“She is more than just a savior,” Brown said as he dropped onto the ground at the C-block fire, Glennon and Higgins already stretched out and enjoying their first true downtime in nearly a week. “The woman’s a walking bloody miracle.”

“Who? The Herald?” Glennon asked, glancing up at the Lieutenant in surprise.

“Who else?”

“Is there something besides the obvious causing this opinion?” Higgins said, leaning back on his elbows on the ground.

“Commander Cullen went into the war council with a scowl and a chip on his shoulder, and came out practically singing.”

Higgins laughed easily while Glennon shook his head with a smile. “The Commander seems fairly even tempered…”

“No, see, he was pissed _about the Herald_ ,” Brown clarified. “Said calling her that was heresy, said the Hands should know better than to spread that kind of nonsense. He was practically agreeing with Roderick. Then, one hour later, its all smiles and _Herald_ this and _Herald_ that. He even told Roderick to go screw, in so many words.”

“Any idea what happened?”

“The Herald happened, I’d say,” Higgins answered before Brown could.

“You think this was what it was like?” Glennon asked. “When Andraste first started up against Tevinter? This sort of sitting around in awe, wondering what else she was going to come up with?”

Brown and Higgins stared at him soundlessly for a moment. “I hadn’t thought of it…” Brown answered slowly. “But… yeah. Yes, I think this is exactly what it must have felt like to those that followed Her.”

“Maker’s balls, Glennon,” Higgins sounded shocked. “I didn’t know you knew how to _pronounce_ Andraste.”

“Fuck you, Higgins,” Glennon shifted self-consciously away from his friend. “Just because I didn’t sit around in the Chantry with you as a kid doesn’t mean I don’t believe in the Maker and His Bride.”

“Sorry, man,” Higgins put his hands out in front of him apologetically. “I’ve just… never heard you talk about it before.”

“She’s making converts of us all,” Brown said simply. “Whether you were Andrastian before all this started, I doubt any of us will be nonbelievers by the time it’s all over.”

They were all silent for awhile, until Glennon seemed to remember that Brown didn’t live in the C-Block and said as much.

“Ah, but that’s changing. Did you see the writ what went up at the Chantry this morning? The late Divine was prepared to reform the Inquisition if the Conclave failed. And, well…” They were all uncomfortably quiet for a moment as they considered what was happening out in the world right then, the mages and templars pointing fingers and killing indiscriminately.

“That was what they’re building,” Brown continued eventually. “We’re the Inquisition now. The 250 or so fighters leftover are to be the core of the Inquisition forces, and we’ve got a lot of building to do before we’re even back at our old strength, much less a force that could contend with marauding mages and rebelling templars. So the Commander has us reorganizing. We’re splitting into six units. The five-shift guard rotation is being put back into place by popular demand, and the five units involved will each be headed by a Lieutenant. Rather than the officers living separately, we’re splitting up and moving in with our companies. So, starting tonight, I live in C-Block.”

“You don’t get C-12,” Glennon said quickly, and Higgins stood up and prepared to defend their campsite.

Brown stayed on the ground, laughing. “I’m taking C-36, thank you very much.”

“That’s, what, on the other side of 13 from us, right?”

“Yes. It’s a distant second. But I wouldn’t alienate you two after fighting Killeen to get you.”

Higgins grinned at his Lieutenant then. “She put up a ruckus over it?”

Brown crossed his ankles and tucked his hands behind his head. “You have no idea. She even took it up with the Commander.”

“Not that you’re wrong,” Glennon said smugly, “but why do you two think we’re such a hot commodity?”

“Well, you’re _alive_ for one,” Brown said, and Higgins coughed uncomfortably. “You’re experienced, for another. You’re no Blight veterans, but you’ve got a few years of service under your belts, and that’s going to be hard to come by. But before we knew any of that, you were a _pair_ : You are used to fighting with one another, and you’re loyal to each other. Loyalty is a trait, not a skill. Fighting as part of a unit is something that will have to be taught, and sometimes you have to break a man down to nothing before you can build him up into working in a team. You two won’t require half the training that most of our recruits will, and that means you can go right into the rotation and be given more responsibility faster.”

Higgins was nodding his head. “Makes sense,” Glennon admitted.

“But, if I’m honest, it’s attitude,” Brown said with an easy smile. “You’re the only people in that damn line the day you arrived who were polite, much less smiling. I’ll go to war with Killeen any day to reduce the number of assholes I have to deal with.”

Their laughter was interrupted by a shuffling of feet in the snow. They looked up as one to see the Herald herself, smiling shyly just outside the cleared circle around the fire. The sunset lit her hair into a ruddy halo and made her green eyes glow.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she started to say, when Higgins jumped to his feet.

“Welcome! Come by the fire,” he waved her closer, and her shy smile melted into an open grin.

“Higgins! I wondered where you would be.”

“Welcome to C-Block, ser,” Higgins said with a flourish. “This is my _new_ Lieutenant, Brown, and you know Glennon.”

“Of course,” she said with a happy wave. “I’m trying to meet as many people as I can. I figured now was the time to get started, since there were so few of us remaining…”

“We were just talking about that, actually, ser,” Glennon said as the Herald sat down carefully by their fire.

“I’m hoping to requisition the walking wounded,” she said, looking at Higgins but seeming to address Brown. “There’s iron in these hills, and more elfroot than ten people could carry. There’s likely fish in the lake, and I’ve seen rams and druffalo in the woods. Anyone on light duty could still make a huge difference if redirected.”

“Well, Higgins here lost a toe-“ Glennon started, but was silenced by Higgins’ elbow in his face.

“A toe?” Evelyn asked solemnly.

“Maker’s breath, it isn’t even noticeable,” Higgins protested. “I needed a new boot and ten seconds with a white blade, that’s all.”

Evelyn glanced surreptitiously at his – bloodied – right boot. “Did you at least get the blade?”

They all laughed. “I did. My name’s on the list for boots.”

She made a disgusted noise in his throat. “This is what I was saying in the council today. We have to take care of the people we have if we want to have any hope of bringing new bodies in.” She glanced up at Brown, who was studying her intently. “Anyone you can recommend for light duty, like I mentioned… send them to me and I’ll get them redirected.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Brown replied easily, and she sat back, surprised. “How about you tell me all the tasks you need the walking wounded for, and I find them and get them moving? …since manpower is _my_ job, and patching the hole in the sky is yours?”

She smiled at him, and extended a hand. Brown reached across and clasped it firmly. “Done,” she said. “I’ll have a list for you in the morning.”

After a moment, they released their grip and she stood, self-consciously tugging her new armor into place. “Well, more people to meet. I’ve seen Killeen and Rylen already, and I know Tamson is on duty at the moment. That leaves…?”

“Hendricks is being moved up to take Everitt’s position,” Brown said gently, knowing Higgins was present when Everitt was pulled apart by demons on the mountain. “The Commander hasn’t decided who’s getting the sixth Lieutenant slot… since that person is going to be responsible for activities outside of Haven, it’s not completely necessary yet.”

“Right. They’re sending me off to the Hinterlands as soon as they can pin me down, so I suspect whatever camp we set there will need that new Lieutenant to report to. Hendricks would be found…?”

Brown gestured over his shoulder. “A-Block. Killeen is taking B. I’ve got C, Rylen’s got D, and Tamson is in E. The sixth Lieutenant will draw from our forces when a new expedition is sent out, rather than having men sitting around waiting for something to do.”

“Logic,” she said with a wry shake of her head. “Who knew?”

Brown shrugged in response. “The Commander, apparently.”

With a wave for each of them, she slipped silently from their fire. Higgins noticed she didn’t make a single sound as she flitted across the snow – the shuffling they’d heard must have been done intentionally, so she didn’t startle them when she approached. The consideration this noblewoman was showing for a pack of career soldiers was heartwarming, to say the least.

“She is definitely something else,” Glennon was saying, slowly shaking his head with a smile, clearly thinking the same thing Higgins had been.

“Walking bloody miracle,” Brown agreed.

 

*

 

Aieyla was standing at the door to the Herald’s hut when Evelyn returned from her slow circuit through the encampment that evening. The elf had lost her nerve and fled three times as she waited, recovering her courage and returning each time.

“Good evening,” Trevelyan’s voice ghosted softly through the darkness as she approached.

Aieyla dropped a nervous curtsey. “Yes, ser. Good evening, ser.”

The Herald, walking very slowly, opened the door to the hut and entered, standing behind the door and holding it open for the tremulous elf. “Please, come in,” she said, her voice oddly gentle.

Aieyla looked panicked for a moment, but took a deep breath and dropped another curtsey before abruptly dashing inside.

Evelyn – still moving very slowly – shut the door behind her and moved to the fire, folding to the floor to sit cross-legged by the hearth.

“Oh, no, ser, let me get you this chair-“

“The floor is better,” Evelyn said in that even tone, like she was calming a spooked horse. “I’ve spent more time unconscious in the last week than in the entirety of my life before it. The less distance I have to fall, the safer I feel for the time being. Maker knows when I might faint again.”

It took Aieyla several long moments before she realized the woman before her was trying to be funny.

“I… I’m sorry, ser. I seem to have forgotten how to laugh.”

Evelyn’s eyes widened in surprise. “That might be the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I’m sorry, ser. I don’t mean to trouble you, ser. I’ll try to do better, ser.”

“Will you please sit?”

Aieyla stared at her as if she’d suddenly grown a second head. “…sit…?”

Evelyn patted the floor next to her. “Sit.”

It took Aieyla a full three minutes to cross the room and lower herself to the ground beside Evelyn. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so blasted sad… the world they lived in causing one person to fear another because of nothing more than the shape of their ears and the wealth of their fathers.

“My name is Evelyn,” she continued in that same soothing tone. “Please, tell me yours?”

“Aieyla,” came the choked response.

“I wanted to thank you, for bringing me soup today. I was out of sorts, and didn’t properly acknowledge what a nice thing that was for you to do. Thank you very much for thinking of me.”

Aieyla stared at her in open disbelief. “…thinking of you? My lady, you’re the Herald of Andraste. I can do nothing _but_ think of you.”

“First, my name is _Evelyn_.”

Aieyla’s jaw slowly dropped.

“Second, it was _not_ Andraste in the Fade.”

Aieyla made a faint choking sound.

“You are welcome to believe what you want. The point is I don’t remember what happened… but I do know that if I’d actually taken Andraste’s hand and She had personally sent me back, I would _bloody well remember it_.”

Aieyla slowly smiled, but shook her head, still unable to speak.

“Are you Andrastian?” Evelyn asked.

Aieyla nodded, _yes_.

“Where did you grow up?”

It took her a long moment to pull in enough breath to answer, now that the question was one that required more than a nod.

“Val Royeaux,” she managed finally. “The alienage.”

“I know only the alienage in Ostwick,” Evelyn offered. “And I might have been briefly in the alienage in Kirkwall, but outside of these walls I will swear I was never in that city at all, at least where Varric can hear me. I cost that man a _lot_ of money a few years ago, and he has no idea it was me.”

Aieyla smiled, but didn’t rise to the bait. Evelyn returned the smile as warmly as she could, and tried another angle.

“I’ve been trying to meet as many people here as I can, since we’re all going to be stuck together for awhile. Did I see you talking to Higgins this morning? He seems like a good sort of person.”

Aieyla nodded, and suddenly found her voice. “He sent me to you with the soup today.”

Evelyn chuckled. “Of course he did. He was the only person today willing to offer me advice, and it was exactly what I needed.”

“What did Higgins advise?” Aieyla asked, barely more than a whisper.

“Simple stuff. Something I probably should have thought of on my own. Introduce myself to Flissa. Walk around Haven, learn where everything is. Get the feel for the people and the place. It made sense once he said it. Everyone else has been here for days, while I was… up at the Temple, and then asleep. So I was the only one who didn’t fit in yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Aieyla said, her voice steadier.

“No reason to be,” Evelyn soothed.

“No, you’re too kind,” Aieyla argued, surprising a smile out of Evelyn. “I could be helping you, _should_ be helping you, rather than you having to force me to sit down and calm myself. I’m only adding to your troubles. I’m sorry, my lady.”

“I thought I told you. My name is _Evelyn_.”

“My apologies, ser, I don’t know that I can call you by your given name.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“It just… wouldn’t be proper.”

“If I prefer you to call me Evelyn, would that make it _im_ proper to call me ought else?”

That finally brought a smile out of her. “I can only promise to _try_ , my lady.”

Evelyn sighed in mock defeat. “I suppose we must start somewhere.”


	7. Only Human

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now firmly into Chapter Two of the timeline of OF&L  
> Also: Higgins is my favorite. But Aieyla is *me*. I realize this only as I proofread.

Higgins and Glennon had Second Watch again the next day, as they moved into Brown’s unit and the five-shift rotation was reinstated. Until the dead were all seen to, the unit with the day off was sent up the mountain on funeral detail. It would be three days before their turn, and Higgins found himself hoping the next two days stayed cold and the dead were easy to find.

When Evelyn – the lady Herald, rather – emerged from her hut an hour or so after his watch began, Higgins wasn’t at the gate to see it. This day saw him walking patrol on the path leading to the road out of the mountains. She came out into the woods with a group of six or so “walking wounded” as she called them – soldiers unable to bear arms but hale enough for light duty. She had Adan with her, as well, and they were teaching the assorted men and women how to identify and harvest elfroot. It was one of the only plants that would grow up from under a blanket of snow, so finding it was relatively easy this time of year.

Evelyn seemed to notice Higgins as he patrolled past – they were still shorthanded and the Nightingale’s scouts had no indication _anyone_ was on the road to Haven, so a solo patrol was Standard Operating Procedure for the time being – and immediately abandoned her apprentice herbalists. She said something shortly to Adan and then bolted back to the village.

Adan looked up and, catching Higgins’ eye, snorted a laugh and waved dismissively at the concern on the soldier’s face. Whatever Evelyn had said to him, it was nothing to garner alarm, Higgins gathered.

He was right. As he made his way back towards Haven, to check for news at the gate and then begin another circuit of his route, the Herald came flying back through the gates to skid to a halt in front of him. Clutched in her hands were a new pair of simply tooled leather boots, bearing a reinforced steel toe.

Higgins couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you delivering requisitions personally now, ser?”

“I figure,” she replied happily, “if me getting you bumped to the top of the list for new gear means everyone starts treating me like you do, it’s a win-win situation. I’ll personally fetch and carry for you, just so long as you keep talking to me like I’m a person and not some ineffable religious icon. Do you want them now, or should I run them back to your camp?”

“Having you bring me new boots is already too much, my lady Herald,” he said respectfully, “I could not possibly ask you to serve as my squire. I’ll take them now. If they take too much breaking in, I can always change back into what I’m wearing now.”

“Fair enough,” she said, proffering the boots. “Does Glennon need any gear replaced?”

“He had some damage to his left bracer, but I believe that was fixed already, since it had to be cut off to tend to his wound.”

She watched happily as Higgins leaned against the wall and tugged on the new boot.

“Fits as well as army issue could, ser. Thank you,” he said gratefully. It would take some breaking in, but today’s walking patrol would likely serve nicely in that endeavor.

“You were the first one here to treat me like a person,” Evelyn replied, and Higgins quickly averted his gaze from the glisten in her eyes. “Yesterday could have been awful… well, worse than it was. Thank you for that.”

“Bare human decency, your Worship,” Higgins replied, and Evelyn rolled her eyes.

“Oh don’t start that,” she said, failing to notice Higgins straightening up and staring over her shoulder.

“Trouble, your Worship?” Commander Cullen’s voice interrupted their interlude, the faint tone of irony implying he wasn’t fond of the method of address ascribed to the Herald. Higgins saw Evelyn’s mouth twist up into a slightly wicked smirk as she turned on her heel.

“Only that this poor man lost his toe in the defense of Haven and hadn’t been issued a new boot,” she replied easily.

Cullen seemed caught between gratitude and protestation. “While that is unfortunate, we have been forced to prioritize the issue of new gear as it is made to those _without_ before replacing damaged but otherwise serviceable armaments.”

Evelyn glanced over her shoulder to wink at Higgins before saying, “You’re free to go, soldier.”

Higgins clanged his fist to his breastplate and fled in mismatched boots. He ducked behind the corner of the wall to drag on the other new boot and stamp them into place. The right was already fitting better than the old one had, unsurprising since that was the foot whose shape had changed. He took a few steps to a tree and tucked his old boots into a forked branch, resolving to return them to Harritt at the end of his Watch so the smith could break them down into usable components. A glance behind him showed the Commander awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and watching the Herald walk away into the woods, returning to Adan and her trainee herbalists. As she disappeared from view, Cullen smiled and shook his head before turning to resume work.

By the time Higgins’ Watch was ending, a team of a dozen villagers were bringing iron into Haven from the men mining it in the hills, and a full two dozen men were working to cut holes in the frozen lake with ice picks fresh from Harritt’s forge. The fishermen were easily the happiest people Higgins had ever seen: the kind of man who liked to fish was often the kind of man who preferred fishing to all other activities. Being paid to ice fish on the Haven lake was a unique kind of heaven.

Higgins fetched his old boots from the tree and dropped them at the smithy, getting briefly dragged into a laughing kind of argument about how much the old leather was actually worth with one of Harritt’s apprentices. As they agreed that the buckles, at least, were worth the time it would take to recover, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of singing at the main fire.

Higgins waved goodbye to the smith, who bent back to her work, and walked up to the gates, pausing as he came around the corner to take in the spectacle before him.

Evelyn was sitting on a barrel near the fire, the kitchen staff laughing as they served up lunch, what appeared to be steak and leek pie. Varric was crouched on the ground beside Evelyn’s barrel, and five or six soldiers were sitting around the fire, ostensibly teaching the Herald a song. It only took Higgins a moment to place the tune – it was a Fereldan tavern song, _Andraste’s Mabari_. It was ridiculous and catchy, and Evelyn already had the refrain memorized.

_And there’s Andraste’s mabari_

_By the Holy Prophet’s side._

_In the fight against Tevinter,_

_That dog would never hide._

_They say the Maker sent him special,_

_Always loyal, without pride,_

_So he could be the sworn companion_

_Of the Maker’s Holy Bride._

When they reached the end of the song – a bit bittersweet, but Andraste _was_ burnt alive, so it was to be expected – the soldiers just coming off Second Watch all cheered as Evelyn laughed and applauded.

“Thank you,” she said to the apparent ringleader – a soldier from Rylen’s unit named Ringwold – and then extended the gratitude around the circle to all present. “That isn’t anything I’d ever heard in Ostwick, that’s for sure.”

“Welcome to Ferelden!” someone called from up the hill, answered by Chambreterre, a soldier on gate duty: “We’re not _in_ Ferelden!” Then began the now-familiar argument over whether Haven fell on the Orlesian or Fereldan side of the border, and Evelyn put her hands up in defeat with a laugh.

“Coming, Varric?” she asked the dwarf, who shouldered his crossbow and nodded his assent before following her out of the village.

They were gone most of the afternoon, returning laughing and exhausted as they dragged a sled bearing the bodies of several full-grown rams. The gate guard – Chambreterre still – helped them pull the sled the rest of the way to the store room near the kitchen. The kitchen staff readily agreed to clean the carcasses and give the skins to Harritt in exchange for a supply for fresh meat.

Evelyn was still far from recovered from the days she had spent unconscious from the ravages of the mark on her hand. She stumbled away from the kitchen with a corner of a loaf of bread and a cup of burnt ends, ducking into her hut to eat and try to catch up on sleep.

Aieyla was waiting for her, having turned down Evelyn’s bed and banked the fire. She helped the Herald out of her armor and put her to bed with a smile.

Evelyn awoke with the chimes of Fourth Bell announcing mid-of-night, having been asleep some six or more hours. Aieyla was sitting quietly by the fire, a candle over her shoulder illuminating whatever it was in her lap that had her focus. Mindful of startling her, Evelyn opted to roll over and stretch as noisily as possible, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and easing to the floor before saying anything.

Aieyla glanced over her shoulder and saw Evelyn was awake. “I’m so sorry, my lady, did I wake you?”

“No, the bell…” Evelyn gestured at the window. “And I’m not used to sleeping so much. Maybe I’m finally getting caught up?”

Aieyla smiled. “I tend to wake up in the middle of the night for awhile, especially when the days are so short. There is peace to be found when the world is sleeping.”

Evelyn padded softly across the room to where Aieyla sat, sinking to the rug at the elf’s feet. Aieyla managed to only look uncomfortable for the span of a few heartbeats before going back to her work. From here, Evelyn could see she was working through a pile of mending, socks and shirts heaped to either side of her. She knotted the patch in her hands, tucking it into what must have been the ‘done’ pile and lifted the sock from the top of the ‘to do’ pile. Evelyn threaded her fingers together and cupped her hands around one knee, content to watch the other woman work.

“Who taught you to sew?” she asked as the sock dropped into the ‘done’ pile and the cuff of a worn shirt took its place.

“My mother,” Aieyla answered easily. “My father taught me my letters and numbers, but my mother taught me everything else.”

“Where is she?” Evelyn asked. Aieyla lifted her eyes, and Evelyn stammered out, “Your mother, I mean. If that’s not too prying.”

Aieyla shrugged. “The alienage, still, I suppose. Where else would she be?”

Evelyn swallowed. “Well, you’re …here. I figured maybe, if she was still around, she might be… out, somewhere… too.”

Aieyla let the sleeve drop into her lap, watching Evelyn struggle with her words with a worried frown. “Your mother,” she asked as Evelyn stuttered to a halt, “does she yet live?”

Evelyn shook her head, _no_. “Died birthing me,” she admitted. “I don’t think my father ever forgave me for it.”

Aieyla slid out of the chair, discarding her mending to the side, and threw her arms around the Herald as her own eyes welled over with tears. “I’m sorry. Oh, Evelyn, I am so, so sorry.”

Taken aback, Evelyn accepted the hug, patting the woman gently on the shoulder. “No reason to be sorry. I never knew any different…”

“No, not that. Void take your father, that’s not my point.” She eased out of Evelyn’s embrace and roughly wiped the tears out of her eyes. “You’re just like all the rest of us, aren’t you? Just as broken and anyone else here, another lost soul. We all look to you for salvation, but where will yours come from?”

Evelyn’s eyes glistened as she gathered Aieyla up for another hug. “It is enough to be alive, to be able to help,” she answered.

Aieyla drew away again, shaking her head vehemently. “No. No, it is _not_. You must have dropped more than a stone in weight, you haven’t put _any_   back on yet, you have done nothing but roam around and fix the hundreds of little problems everyone seems to be willing to tell you about, and now you’re awake in the middle of the night trying to counsel _me_ when you should be healing your _self_.”

Evelyn sprawled inelegantly on the floor, laughing self-consciously at herself. “…says the woman _also_ up in the middle of the night working on other people’s problems. You can’t tell me that’s your shirt.”

Aieyla scowled. “No, it’s Adan’s. Even if he _could_ sew, there’s few enough needles to go around that those of us who have them are doing the mending for everyone. As it should be… we’re all pitching in where we can.”

“Which is no less what I’m doing,” Evelyn started, and was cut off when a sock from the ‘done’ pile hit her in the face.

“Taking Higgins his boots is a bit much, when you could be sleeping, eating, _praying_ … all the things _you_ need, your _soul_ needs.”

“Me taking Higgins his boot is no different than you doing mending for Adan. Higgins was the first person I met here who didn’t treat me like… like…”

“Like I did, when you woke up,” Aieyla said, setting her shoulders and raising her chin. “I regret it. I should have been stronger, should have been braver.”

Evelyn waved a hand. “I’m sure you’ve spent your entire life being abused by people like me.”

“No, I’ve never been abused by someone like you. I suffered at the hands of merchants and cowards, but never someone like you.”

Evelyn met Aieyla’s eyes, her own expression soft. “And how were you to know the difference, when I woke up muttering about Fereldan ale? You didn’t know me from Maferath.”

The elf was scowling at her now, mentally discarding replies as quickly as she came up with them. After several long moments, she took a steadying breath. “First, Maferath was a _man_ , I’m pretty sure I could tell the difference. Second, I wronged you when you awoke, and you are being very kind in waving it away. Third, I have never spoken to someone like this in my _life_ and I can’t really believe you’re letting me… Its almost like you really meant it when you asked me to call you by your given name.”

“Of course I meant it,” Evelyn scoffed. “I’m a thief, not a liar.”

Aieyla blinked at her uncertainly. “I don’t ever know when to take you seriously.”

“How about this…” Evelyn said, sitting up to look Aieyla in the eyes. “I will promise, here and now, to never say anything to you that can’t be taken at face value. And I’ll take it a step further… whether in private or not, you can always speak to me precisely as you are now.”

“Were you always like this, with your servants?” Aieyla asked, coming off the chair and settling down on the plush rug beneath them.

“My _father_ had servants,” Evelyn said darkly. “I aspired to have friends who happened to work in the same house I was permitted to live in.”

Aieyla smiled sadly. “How successful were you?”

Evelyn shook her head silently.

“Who took care of you?” she asked the Herald when it became clear there was nothing else forthcoming.

“What do you mean?”

Aieyla shrugged self-consciously. “If your father never forgave you for being born the day your mother died, then surely he never remarried. Who mothered you, growing up?”

Evelyn dropped her eyes to the carpet. “My father hired a wetnurse, who saw me through my early years, I’m told. My father hired a woman to cook, so I was fed. My father hired women to clean the house, so my laundry was done. My father hired a man to tutor us, so I learned what I needed to. Is that what you mean?”

Evelyn looked up, expecting to find the elf crying again, and was surprised to see her jaw clenched in anger. “No. No, that is _not_ what I mean. When you were frightened, who comforted you? When you were hurt, who held you?”

Evelyn held her eyes, and let her silence answer.

Aieyla’s hands bunched into fists. “If you had a question about the world, and your tutor was not there, who did you ask?”

Evelyn smiled, finally having an answer. “My brother, Aaric.”

Aieyla relaxed slightly. “An older brother cared for you, then?”

“He was never mad at me,” Evelyn clarified, “for killing Mother. He was the third oldest – there were three others and some ten years between us – and he already had duties and obligations by the time I was old enough to seek him out. He was the second son, the spare heir, and so he received all the same training as our oldest brother. He was to make a good marriage, forge an alliance like our sister had, like the oldest brother had, so he was busy with balls and chivalry and courtly intrigue.”

Aieyla seemed angry again. “Was?”

Evelyn nodded. “He was with me, at the Conclave.”

Aieyla stood up, swept her sewing basket off the floor, and threw it at the wall. In the same motion, she spun full around and gracefully folded her legs to sit again on the rug with Evelyn. “Who else?” She said, voice strangely gentle between clenched teeth.

Evelyn was utterly baffled by her behavior, and let the confusion show on her face. “I had six siblings, all told. The eldest I never knew, she was sent to the Circle in Ostwick before I was born. The next two were brothers, the heir and the spare. Another sister became a Templar. Then the sister who was married off, I barely knew her, scarcely remember her wedding. I think she lives in Starkhaven. The last son went into business; he was the nearest to me in age, but the most like my father. We weren’t close.”

“No,” Aieyla said softly. “Who else was with you at the Conclave?”

“Other minor members of major houses in the ‘Marches. Second and third sons and daughters, uncles and aunts out of the line of inheritance, people I’d known my whole life, if only by reputation. Mostly good Andrastian folk, the sort who were willing to meet me before making judgments based on what they’d heard or who I was related to. Aaric came… Aaric was sent because I had friends in the Carta who were coming to watch the Conclave, who needed to know what was going to happen with the lyrium trade. When Father learned Edric was coming – probably from the _other_ Carta clan Father smuggled lyrium with – he tried to make me stay home, but I’d already left to wait in Kirkwall with the rest of the delegation for our ship to arrive. He couldn’t pull me without it coming out that I was actually running with the Carta, that I wasn't just the bored nobleman’s brat looking for thrills by breaking and entering he’d presented me as. So, to _keep me honest_ , he sent Aaric with me.”

“Edric?” Aieyla prompted. Her hands were clenched in fists again.

“Edric Cadash,” Evelyn pronounced carefully, emphasizing the _dwarven_ name.

“Your lover,” Aieyla asserted softly.

Evelyn nodded, lips drawn between her teeth and her eyes downcast.

“Tell me. Evelyn. Who is alive in this world, right now, that loves you?”

Slowly, Evelyn raised her eyes from the floor to meet Aieyla’s gaze. She stayed pointedly silent.

Aieyla cast about for something else to throw.

“I’m upsetting you. I’m sorry. Can we speak of something else?”

“No!” Aieyla exploded up from the floor again, venting her rage through frenzied pacing back and forth across the little hut. “Maker’s mercy, Evelyn, Andraste would not want _this_. You don’t take a woman with _nothing_ and drop the weight of the world on her shoulders. You don’t choose for a savior the person on the planet who _most needs saving_. You don’t mark her as special, separate her out of the flock, take from her any hope of finding love, finding commonality. It’s not _right,_ it’s not _fair_.”

Evelyn managed a sad smile. “See? I’m not Andraste’s Herald. I’m glad _somebody_ agrees with me.”

“Promise me something,” Aieyla said suddenly, turning on her heel to cross the room to Evelyn and catching the seated woman’s face in her hands.

“Anything,” Evelyn replied immediately, honestly, causing Aieyla to flinch.

“Promise me you will let me take care of you.”

“What?” Evelyn laughed, pulling away from Aieyla’s hands.

Aieyla grabbed her cheeks and pulled her back, tipping her face so their gazes met. “I can’t stop you from delivering Higgins’ boots or teaching men to fish on top of everything else you’re going to have to do to close the Breach and save the world. But I can keep you from adding my burdens to your list. And you can let me ease yours.”

Evelyn wasn’t laughing anymore. “What do you mean?”

“Have you written your family, let them know you lived? Let them know Aaric did not?”

“No.”

“Have you a second change of clothes?”

“No.”

“Do you have a hair brush? A comb? Extra socks?”

“No, no, and no.”

With a sigh, Aieyla sat back down. “Do you prefer firm pillows or soft pillows?”

Evelyn scrubbed roughly at her eyes to keep the tears at bay. “Firm.”

“Would you rather be too warm or too cold?”

A sniffle escaped. “Warm.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Really?” Aieyla canted an eyebrow. “I would have pegged you for green.”

Evelyn sniffed again, noisily, but managed to laugh instead of cry. “I like green, too.”


	8. To Make a Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald is called on her shit (not for the first time).  
> Also, Glennon makes some fine points.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You people honestly make me want to just sit down and post everything I have, quit my job, and sit here and write for you.  
> I am getting the nicest comments, and just. heart esplode. Thank you!

They awoke at First Bell, snuggled into Evelyn’s bed, the human curled into a tight ball, her face buried in the shoulder of the elf. Aieyla was only a year or two younger than Evelyn, which had come as a surprise to them both. But their relationship had fundamentally changed overnight: Aieyla had altogether stopped being afraid of the noblewoman, and resolved instead to show her the care that had been missing from her life up ‘til now.

“Breakfast,” Aieyla said briskly as she rose and pulled Evelyn from bed. “You’ve still got catching up to do.”

Evelyn grumbled good-naturedly as she rolled out of the covers, landing in a crouch beside the bed. “You’re going to make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“I can’t promise you won’t,” Aieyla replied archly, and they both laughed.

“What kind of catching up do you mean me to do?”

“First, food. You’re skin and bones.”

“Yes, ser,” Evelyn replied, allowing the elf to help her wash and dress before chasing her out the door.

The door swung shut behind Evelyn, and she was briefly at a loss, blinking in the early morning sun.

“Breakfast?” a familiar voice asked, and her head swiveled to find who had spoken.

“Glennon, good morning,” Evelyn said, striding towards the guard at the fire to sit beside him and Varric.

“Good morning, Ginger,” Varric said mildly, and Evelyn felt her jaw clench.

“She’s not, though, is she?” Glennon disagreed, leaning back to study her complexion. “She’s not a true redhead, her hair is much darker. More of an auburn. Now, the Nightingale, on the other hand… you could call _her_ Ginger.”

Evelyn grinned at the Fereldan. “See? I told you so, Varric.”

The dwarf grunted. “Fair enough. So we’re back to Limey for the time being.”

“Limey?” Glennon and Evelyn asked simultaneously. Evelyn laughed and rose, seeing the breakfast line was temporarily empty, and came back with a steaming bowl of fruit and oats and a mug of spiced tea. “Why on earth would you call her Limey?” Glennon asked, aghast.

Varric gestured lamely at her hand. “Sounds better than _greenie_ , and it is a bit of a defining feature.”

“Seriously, Varric, you _suck_ at this.”

Evelyn threw her head back and laughed, loud and long.

“A good moniker takes time, Glennon, you can’t rush these things. I’ll get it eventually.”

“We still hunting this afternoon, Varric?” Evelyn asked, giving him a reprieve from Glennon’s taunting.

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “I’ve been told there’s roast ram on the menu tonight when we get back, compliments of the Herald.”

“Fantastic,” she grinned around her teacup.

“Rather than hunt,” Glennon offered, “you could always just lead back a few druffalo and work on taming them. Easily half of the guys in C-Block were farmers’ sons or shepherds at some point.”

Evelyn tilted her head as she considered it. “It would be something else for the walking wounded, surely. Or maybe there are others who came to the Conclave and stayed in Haven who aren’t soldiers? Servants and other household staffers who might want to try their hand at domesticating the wildlife?”

“Or, just the people who were in Haven before the Conclave descended on them,” Varric said with a nod.

“I’ll pop up to the Chantry and see what the powers-that-be think. If Cullen has a place to put some pens, maybe we could coerce some druffalo into town with us this evening.”

She finished her porridge quickly and returned the bowl to the server with a smile, holding onto her refilled mug of tea and plowing up the hill to the Chantry. Varric and Glennon watched her go with matching smiles.

“She really doesn’t know that _she_ is the powers-that-be, does she?” Glennon remarked.

Varric snorted. “No idea. Maker preserve us once she figures it out.”

 

*

 

There was a pen ready for the pair of druffalo that Varric and Evelyn led back to Haven that afternoon, Commander Cullen having taken volunteers from Second Watch to assemble the fencing after they were replaced by Lieutenant Brown’s unit at noon. Higgins drew trebuchet duty that day, and spent six hard hours hauling lumber and working to build the defensive machines on Haven’s wall. Glennon, on gate duty, leaned against the heavy wooden timbers framing the gate and laughed at his friend. They were both in good spots to watch the Inquisitor walking into the village with a druffalo at her back, snuffling impatiently at the sack of apples she had slung over her shoulder. Every twenty paces or so, she fished an apple out and fed it to the beast, who paused long enough to eat it before racing to catch up with her. Varric was mimicking the pattern with a second druffalo a few dozen paces behind her. They managed to lead both animals through Haven to their new enclosures with no incidents beyond the incredulous stares of half the village.

The roast that night was agreed upon by Brown’s company to be the best thing any of them had ever eaten.

It started being passed around the main fire that the Herald was going to spend one more day in Haven before setting out for the Hinterlands. Higgins wandered up to Commander Cullen’s tent and drummed up the courage to ask the man in charge about the rumor.

“As I understand it, yes, the lady Trevelyan will be leaving the morning after next. Do you have a concern to report?”

Higgins shook his head. “No, ser. I was wanting to volunteer for her retinue.”

Commander Cullen smiled at him. “You and me both, man. The Herald is taking no retinue.”

“She… what?”

The smile turned into a laugh. “Precisely what I said. Sister Leliana has already sent scouts ahead, and they are creating a base camp. Lady Trevelyan has decided she would be better served with a strike team, consisting of Seeker Cassandra, Solas, and Master Tethras. We are deploying no troop support at this time.”

“But… Commander, she’s… and there are rifts… and Makers knows….”

The look Commander Cullen gave him was pure empathy. “There is no protest you can make that I have not already presented at the war council. Seeker Cassandra is confident in her abilities to keep the Herald safe, and the Herald herself has stated she will not tolerate the presence of Inquisition soldiers on her trek.”

Higgins could only grumble a reply. “And she’d probably ditch us if we tried.”

The Commander snorted a laugh, “That seems highly likely.”

“Forgive me for the intrusion, ser,” Higgins said, bowing his way out of the tent. Cullen waved his dismissal.

Higgins made his way through Haven, aiming for his cot in his tent back in the encampment. As he neared the gate, his eyes were drawn to the firelight easily visible in the Herald’s window. Remembering her smile as she handed him a new pair of boots, he drummed up his courage and strode up to her door, knocking sharply. There were still plenty of men at the fire, and he was easily identifiable by the gate guard. He could almost feel the eyes in his back when Aieyla opened the door.

“Is the Lady Trevelyan available?”

“Higgins!” the Herald’s voice called happily from around the corner. A moment later, she appeared from her bedchamber, blessedly still clad in her leather armor and boots. “Come in!”

He stiffly shook his head, _no_. “My Lady, have the Inquisition troops not met your standards?”

She straightened at his tone, quickly closing the distance to the door and stepping outside to face him. “I don’t know what _standards_ I am supposed to have, but no. I have no qualms about you, nor any other soldiers I have seen in Haven.”

“Why, then, will you not _tolerate our presence_ on your mission to the Hinterlands?”

Realization flooded her face, and Higgins was surprised to see a mix of shame and regret. “Oh, no, you don’t think… Andraste’s mouldering toenails, you’ve got it all wrong.”

The swear from her lips drove his eyebrows to his hairline and forced a smile that he fought to temper. She strode towards the fire, grabbing Higgins’ hand and dragging him along behind her.

“How many companies are represented here? I’ve got Higgins here from Brown’s unit. Ringwold, you’re with Rylen, right? Who’s with Hendricks?”

“I am,” Chambreterre called.

“Great, good evening Roz,” Evelyn said, waving at the Orlesian. Chambreterre’s first name was Rozellene, and ‘Roz’ had quickly becoming her preferred mode of address, not to mention easier on her compatriots.

“So, we need someone from Tamson’s unit and someone from Killeen’s….” Evelyn said, craning her head.

“Will I work?” Killeen called, from just outside the circle of firelight, and Evelyn coughed a laugh.

“Yes. Just Tamson’s unit, then….”

“They were on funeral duty today,” Killeen said gently. “Not likely to have any of them out and about tonight.”

Evelyn swallowed and then nodded her understanding. “I’ll need everyone here to listen to what I have to say, then. And when we’re through, tell the rest of your companies. And somebody get word to Tamson and his men, alright?”

A sea of confused faces and slow nods met her. She belatedly realized she still had a hold of Higgins’ hand, and she released him and stepped back so he was slightly in front of her.

“I’ve been asked,” she said, her voice pitched to carry, “to travel to the Hinterlands and meet with a cleric there, a woman by the name of Mother Giselle. The Inquisition has few allies, and you all are painfully aware of the losses we’ve suffered in the last week. If someone in the Chantry _wants_ to help us, we owe it to ourselves to bow to their wishes. As such, I am leaving the morning after next to find this woman and convince her the Inquisition has a chance to fix this mess we’re in.”

She paused to gesture at Higgins. “You may have heard Higgins’ question for me, you might not have. But you all deserve the answer. I’m not taking a company of soldiers with me as an escort. There are forward scouts in place that I will meet with, but as of right now I am not asking for any other deployment. I want to explain to you why.

“First and foremost, there are four times as many dead on the mountain as there are living in Haven, and we owe it to them – our brothers- and sisters-in-arms, our friends and family, to find them and lay them to rest. That is a hard and arduous task, and I salute you – each and every one of you – for your tireless devotion to it.

“Second, the Inquisition is not known outside of these mountains. Until word has spread and our insignia is both recognized and respected, any force of our troops will be a _target_ rather than a deterrent. By taking a retinue of our forces with me, I would be drawing more attention to my party and increasing the likelihood of attack. Our world is at war, and it is a war of the most insane, ridiculous sort… we cannot rely on either faction to _stop and think_ before engaging.

“Third, I am opting to take a very small team – myself and three others – to slip around the mages and templars in the region and trust to stealth to keep us safe until we’ve met with Mother Giselle. My team will consist of myself, Varric Tethras, the mage Solas, and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. If any of you have a reason to think you are better suited to a four-man strike team than one of those three, I am willing to hear your argument now.”

She paused for a round of nervous laughter. “Yeah, that’s what the Commander said when I told him.”

That statement brought out a louder laugh, and she grinned – rather impishly – at the soldiers arranged around the fire.

“I respect you,” she said, more softly yet there was no doubt everyone could hear. “You have already fought your way back from so much, _survived_ so much. I will never doubt your abilities, your dedication, your bravery, your strength. I don’t yet know what it’s going to take to close to Breach, to close the rifts, to avenge the Divine, to stop the war… but I know we aren’t all going to survive it. I will not waste your lives, I swear to you. Not one single death will be in vain. All I ask from you is that you trust me, trust your Commander, trust Leliana and Cassandra and Josephine, to calculate the risks and give you – give each of _us_ – our best chance.”

The crackling of the fire was the only sound. Evelyn slowly looked around the fire, deliberately meeting the eye of every man and woman present.

“Higgins knocked on my door and asked me to clarify my decision. That was the _right thing to do_. If any of you ever feel strongly about something like Higgins just did, I don’t want you to swallow it, to struggle with it. Bring it up, bring it forward. If not to me, then to your Lieutenants, to your Commander. That said, I am here, before you, right now. Anything you’re thinking, anything you want to say, I will hear you.”

“You should be protected,” Killeen’s voice ghosted up from the edge of the fire. “We all accepted our deaths as inevitable when demons started pouring down the mountain; saving us is no reason to leave yourself vulnerable.”

A few voices raised up in agreement, and Evelyn nodded. “That is a fair argument. Thank you, Killeen. I don’t think I can _say_ anything to convince you I can protect myself, so would you be willing to let me prove it to you?”

Killeen pitched forward, taking a smooth step away from the barrels she’d been leaning on. “You’re welcome to try,” the Lieutenant said with a smile.

“Alright,” she answered the smile. “Anyone interested, come with me to the lake.”

Not a single soul was left by the fire. By the time they reached the frozen shore, they’d acquired another three or four dozen soldiers. Tamson was roused from his tent in E-block and quickly filled in on what the Herald had said. Hendricks’ unit was on duty, so Roz had been left behind at the gate with the promise that whatever happened would be brought back to her and everyone else guarding Haven.

When they reached the edge of the water – far enough from Haven to escape the notice of anyone who hadn’t come along – Evelyn gestured at Ringwold. “Harritt won’t have my daggers ready for me until tomorrow. Any chance I can borrow yours?”

Ringwold couldn’t unsheathe them and hand the blades to Evelyn fast enough. She tugged a pair of riding gloves out of a seam in her armor and pulled them on, the smell of singed leather immediately filling the air. “I can’t promise I won’t damage the grip,” she told Ringwold, “but if I do I’ll get you a new one on the morrow.”

“Fair enough, my lady,” he answered.

“Alright, Killeen,” Evelyn said, giving Ringwold’s daggers a few tentative spins to get the feel for their balance. “Come at me.”

Killeen left her sword sheathed and her shield slung across her back. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Evelyn shrugged, made another flourish with the borrowed daggers, and then promptly vanished.

“Fuck, fucking rogues, fuck,” Killeen gritted, throwing herself into a dive across the ice as she fought to unsling her shield. She got it settled in place just in time to wrap her hand around her sword hilt and then get knocked onto her face by Evelyn, who suddenly reappeared behind her. They slid several feet across the ice, Evelyn holding a knifepoint to the base of Killeen’s skull.

“Next time,” she said softly, “I’ll cut your shield strap. Fair warning.” The Herald stepped off Killeen’s back, crouched, and sprang into a series of backwards handsprings across the ice, somersaulting into the woods and disappearing again from view.

“Maker’s leaking asshole,” Killeen continued a litany of frustrated curses as she settled her armaments and spun slowly, watching for the Herald to reappear.

She didn’t have to wait long. The next sound anyone heard was Killeen’s shield hitting the ice, the strap severed neatly. Killeen, beyond aggravated, drove her sword into the ice and put her hands up on either side of her head. “I can’t fucking see you, Trevelyan. Your point is made.”

“I could see her,” Ringwold admitted reluctantly.

“And Varric could have seen _you_ ,” Evelyn’s said, suddenly visible again at Killeen’s right side. “If you were to come against me in the Hinterlands, and call to your allies my location, you’d have a bolt from Bianca through your throat.”

She was getting nods of agreement, now, and approval.

“My point is, I’m not the person who needs protection. Not like this, at least. When I’m in the field with Cassandra, it will be her job to draw fire. If you’ve ever spoken to the lady Seeker, you know how easy that will be for her to accomplish.” The laughter was definitely nervous; poking fun at Cassandra Pentaghast was not conducive to a leading a long and healthy life. “My job, then, will be to shred everything that is trying to get around her shield. The only way I am a target is if the Seeker isn’t doing her job. And if Cassandra can’t do it…”

Killeen snorted. “None of us can do better than her, that’s for sure,” she said, and gestured for them to head back into the encampment. “Lesson received, my lady Trevelyan.”

“I didn’t do it to be an ass,” Evelyn retorted, surprising more than one of the soldiers in attendance. “And I didn’t do it to show you up. Like I said before, I _respect_ you. I brought you out here because I won’t ask you to come to me with concerns and then blow you off. I am willing to prove to you that I can defend myself. Faith can only take you so far.”

Killeen stopped and turned, offering the Herald her hand. Evelyn took it with a smile, and they stood for a long moment on the ice, hands clasped.

“You know,” Killeen said as they broke apart, and headed to shore, “the best place to spread word of what you’ve said is the tavern.”

Evelyn laughed happily. “Are you asking me out for a drink, Lieutenant?”

“Absolutely,” Killeen replied. “As long as you’re not offended when I say you are _not_ my type, not even remotely.”

Evelyn nodded. “I don’t really have a _type_ , I don’t think. But you don’t have the right equipment to interest me, sorry.”

Killeen chuckled. “The feeling is mutual, my lady.”

“Do you have an interest?” Evelyn asked her a few minutes later as they settled into a table in the back of the tavern and the Herald worked to pull off the burned and ruined mess of a glove from her left hand. Ringwold’s daggers were returned unscathed, much to his dismay; Evelyn suspected he would have kept the scorched grip as a keepsake.

“A love interest, you mean?” Killeen asked with a smile. “I didn’t know we were friends already.”

Evelyn waved a hand, dismissing the question. “I don’t mean to pry, forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” Killeen answered happily. “What will you have to drink?”

“Anything but Fereldan ale.”

“What do you expect to drink at the tavern if not a mug of ale?”

“Whatever Flissa is willing to give me on credit. I don’t have one red cent to my name.”

Killeen snorted. “You expect me to believe that a ‘Marcher nobleman’s daughter is flat broke?”

“What, did you see a coin purse on me when I fell out of the Fade? Or maybe I went back to my room in the Temple of Sacred Ashes and found my lockbox intact.”

Killeen’s jaw snapped shut as the humor drained from her face.

“Killeen, I don’t even have my own _underwear_ anymore. Aieyla has offered to make me some pajamas so I don’t have to sleep in my armor. ‘Herald of Andraste’ isn’t a paid position.”

“Flissa.” The tavern keeper scowled at Killeen, but came out from around the bar to approach the table. “Please bring the Herald something stiff and expensive. I’ll take a mug of ale. Tab’s on me.”

Evelyn swallowed roughly. “I’m sorry, it’s just… a sore point, still. I don’t really have a place in the world anymore.”

“Maker’s breath, I bet,” Killeen breathed. “I’d feel bad for you if you didn’t just kick my ass in front of my men.”

Evelyn barked a laugh, but her retort was lost as Flissa dropped a glass of single malt in front of her. Evelyn wrapped her hands around the glass, determined to nurse it for as long as possible. She wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker, but there was something comforting in the burn on the back of her throat.

Killeen’s loss and Evelyn’s admission took much of the joy out of the evening, and they had a hard time finding a comfortable topic of conversation. “Thanks for the drink,” Evelyn said as they stood to leave a short time later. “I’ll get the next round, one way or the other.”

“Come back from the Hinterlands in one piece and I’ll happily plant my ass here and let you buy me a beer,” Killeen replied.


	9. Regarding Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we finally learn what Evelyn has been keeping from Varric all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shortie, but I've been teasing this one for ages.

It was still Fourth Watch when Evelyn got back to the tiny hut she now shared with Aieyla, the elf girl having moved her cot and paltry few belongings into the bedroom sometime that afternoon.

“You smell like liquor,” Aieyla said in lieu of a greeting.

“I beat Killeen in a quick spar, so she bought me a drink,” Evelyn explained. “I might’ve confessed to her that I lost all my worldly belongings, and it put a damper on the frivolity.”

Aieyla laughed, a bit bitterly. “That’s where Higgins’ question led, I suppose?”

Evelyn nodded. “Everyone else is still so weird with me. The clerics can’t decide whether they loathe me or merely disapprove of my continued existence. The villagers fall on their faces in misplaced worship when I walk by. Everyone who isn’t a soldier either hates me or worships me, come to think of it. And the soldiers… half of them have me on a pedestal still, but some of them are willing to treat with me like I’m a person. I want to do what I can to encourage that.”

“What of the Inquisition leaders? Cassandra and the others?”

Evelyn shrugged uncomfortably. “Josephine is a hard read. If she has an opinion of me, I don’t know it. That alone is nice, I suppose. Leliana is secretly heartbroken. The loss of the Divine really rattled her. She seems to genuinely like me, though. Cassandra is incredible. The woman is just… an absolute force of nature. And she believes in me, is willing to talk to me and treat with me as an equal. I’m glad she’s going with me to the Hinterlands. Solas is coming around, I think. He was strange when I met him on the mountain, but the more we talk the easier he is to understand. Varric is… Varric. He is too much like me for me to be anything but fond of him. I’m sure we’ll drive each other psychotic, but it will be a fun trip.”

“And the Commander?”

Evelyn twisted her mouth comically. “Honestly?”

Aieyla smiled. “I believe you promised to always be honest with me.”

Evelyn grunted. “The man is beautiful.”

The elf laughed, tipping her head back and letting genuine mirth pour out. “I can see that for myself,” she said, collecting herself and prompting a happy smile from Evelyn. “I mean, does he treat you like a person?”

Evelyn seemed to consider it. “He treats me like a noblewoman, but besides that? Yes. And he does this thing, when I approach the Chantry and Roderick is there, Cullen will turn the chancellor so he can’t see me, so I don’t get harassed by him. It’s such a simple thing, but it’s… it’s really… I don’t know.”

“Sweet,” Aieyla supplied, and Evelyn scowled at her.

“Don’t start,” she said, and the elf laughed again.

“The Commander was in Kirkwall for many years, maybe you saw him on one of your visits?”

Evelyn shook her head, _no_. “For one, I only visited Kirkwall once… well, twice. The first time was an illicit venture, and the second was as a staging ground for the delegation to the Conclave. I was taken by closed carriages under heavy guard straight to an estate in Hightown when I was there officially, and I saw literally none of the city. And I suspect Commander Cullen had already left to come here, since he was well established before the Conclave happened.”

“And the first visit?”

“I spent most of it in the alienage, like I told you.”

“What took you to the alienage?”

Evelyn stepped out of her armor and walked to the basin to wash before crawling into bed. As Aieyla finished tidying up and crawled into her cot, Evelyn leaned against the headboard and held the blankets up to her chin.

“It was a bad lead, honestly. Cadash – Edric, I suppose I should say, the _clan_ was Cadash – got word that a rival Carta clan was using the Kirkwall alienage as a staging ground for the lyrium trade, and supplying both sides of the war there. This was long enough after the Chantry explosion that the worst of the carnage was over, but before Varric published his book and relit the fire. Edric and I snuck into Kirkwall at night, swimming into the gallows and then dropping through a sewer grate into Darktown. Our first plan was to interfere with their shipping, so Edric and I found their boats and cut out a single plank just above the water line on either side of the hull. As they took on cargo – or went to sea – they would take on water. A good captain would catch it, a bad captain would sink. We left one ship intact… we spent most of a night searching the cargo still on the dock until we found _three full crates_ of women’s lingerie. It looked like a shipment coming in from Orlais that hadn’t been picked up yet, and we… reappropriated it. We strung it all into the most ridiculous netting and fastened it across the bow of the ship, trapping it against the dock.”

Evelyn grinned a little at the memory. “The next morning, all eyes were on that boat. The shopkeeper for whom the lingerie was being delivered was _furious_ – I guess it was quite expensive – and insisted the captain of the ship pay reparations. The captain refused, and the shopkeeper tried to put a lien on the ship. All the while, there’s still underwear flapping in the wind, and half of lowtown has come to the docks to point and laugh. There was no way any of the Carta we were looking for were going to get out of town that day – or the next – so we turned our attention to the alienage.”

“We couldn’t just walk into the alienage – Edric was tattooed for his own clan, and there’s no hiding a Carta affiliation. So we hid in Darktown for three days, creeping into the alienage at night and checking each building individually. We hid in sewers and storm drains; I was perpetually wet, filthy, and reeking. On the fourth night we realized we hadn’t seen _any_ other Carta in the whole blasted city, even when we were sabotaging their ships, and Edric risked a meeting with the hahren of the alienage. She told Edric that there _had been_ Carta in the alienage, but once it became clear they were using a building there for lyrium smuggling, she had passed word to another elf in the city by the name of Fenris. I guess Fenris was one of Hawke’s associates, with a particular distaste for smugglers and slavers. Fenris had come through the night before we arrived and slaughtered the entire Carta clan in the alienage. He’d heard rumors that there was one more Carta dwarf in the area, and he’d been looking for Edric for three days. When we heard that, we got out of Kirkwall as quickly as possible.”

“You’d been hunted by this Fenris the whole time?” Aieyla asked, aghast.

“You can see why I’m not eager to admit I was ever in the city,” Evelyn answered with a smile. “As far as I know, he’s _still_ looking for the woman stupid enough to run with the Carta in the Kirkwall alienage.”

“And the ships? Whose ships did you sabotage?”

Evelyn grimaced. “When the Carta was wiped out, the ships were quickly bought out by somebody with insider knowledge, who’d been tipped that Fenris had slaughtered the owners. Another of Hawke's associates.”

Aieyla put her hands over her mouth. “Varric?” she asked, eyes sparkling.

Evelyn nodded. “Varric’s shiny new fleet of ships, wrecked by me and Cadash. And his flagship forever after known as _The Panty Raider_. I still don’t know how we managed to not get caught.”

Aieyla laughed, then, catching Evelyn’s mood. “Perhaps you _should_ have been caught. Maybe you could have met the Commander that much sooner.”

Evelyn threw her pillow at Aieyla, who caught it, laughing. “That wasn’t the point to the story! And besides, he wouldn’t have come down to the alienage to pick up what pieces were left of me.”

“Which alienage was worse,” Aieyla asked when her giggling subsided, “Ostwick or Kirkwall?”

“From what little I remember of Kirkwall, the tree there was lovely and the people were spirited. I think Hawke and her companions had a lot to do with that. Ostwick, though… it has a nicer sheen in my eyes, since my memories of it don’t involve three days of the worst stink imaginable.”

Aieyla laughed again. “I imagine your noble rescuer would have been put off by the smell. Perhaps it _was_ better the way it played out.”

“You’re terrible,” Evelyn said, her voice thick with amusement. “My _noble rescuer_ is my comrade-at-arms and an individual I have a purely professional relationship with.”

“For now,” Aieyla replied with a shrug and a smirk.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, but abandoned any hope of winning the argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Of Fear and Lyrium, Chapter Two:  
> "Cullen happened to pass their hut in the evening and heard them laughing about something that had happened in the alienage – strangely, it seemed to have been Evelyn’s story."  
> IF ONLY HE HAD STOPPED TO LISTEN.


	10. The Night at the Tavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evelyn decides to buy drinks for everyone in Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are - at last - the end of OF&L's second Chapter.  
> I would say that we'll start going at a faster rate, but that would be a lie.

The Herald had been gone for five days when the call went out for volunteers from the soldiery to be stationed in the Hinterlands. Evelyn was establishing Inquisition camps in the area and needed soldiers to hold them – preferably soldiers from the area around Redcliffe, who would have a vested interest in keeping the region stable. Chambreterre caught the promotion to Field Lieutenant, and anyone wanting a rotation – or a more permanent assignment – outside of Haven was directed to her.

And, for the sake of brevity, she was to be called _Roz_.

Higgins was one of the first to volunteer.

“You’re from Highever, aren’t you?” Roz asked after he announced his intentions.

“Yes, ser.”

“I’m going to let the Redcliffe boys take these spots first. As more come available, I’ll put you in for a rotation. I assume it’s just a rotation, and not a permanent placement?”

Higgins nodded. “Anything to support the Herald, Roz.”

“The Herald will be back in Haven before you get out to the Hinterlands, I bet,” Roz replied with an easy smile. “But I’ll keep  your name in mind in case anything comes up.”

Ringwold was in the first twenty men to leave for the crossroads, having grown up in Redcliffe village. New recruits were starting to arrive in Haven as the Hinterlands unit left, at a steady enough rate to more than make up for the men lost to Field maneuvers. More importantly, the funeral details were officially ended the day before Ringwold and the others departed, allowing everyone still in Haven to finally take one day off out of every five. The new recruits were saved from ever seeing the carnage on the mountain.

They had a net gain of over 100 soldiers when word arrived that the Herald was returning to Haven. Their forces were still small, almost pitifully small, but more men-at-arms and grizzled Blight veterans arrived every day. Sparring rings were built outside the gates, and a training schedule added to the guard rotation: when scheduled for Third or Fourth watch, units had to report to training at an hour past First Bell. New recruits were assigned to a training unit, housed in F-Block, until they were approved to leave daily training and join one of the companies.

It took all of three hours after F-Block was gridded before it was universally known as FNG-Block.

“The Herald’s going to show up and wonder who all the fucking new guys are,” Glennon said aloud as he and Higgins stood on gate duty and watched for Evelyn to arrive.

Higgins had little more than a grunt in reply. “She probably personally recruited half of them.”

“What time did Killeen say the Herald was due?”

“Halfway between Second Bell and Third,” Higgins answered for what was probably the fifth time.

“What time is it now?”

Higgins sighed. “About ten minutes later than the last time you asked. She’s due any time now, just keep your eyes peeled.”

They heard her, long before they saw her. She and Varric were singing something with the beat of a war chant, while Cassandra chimed in periodically with corrections or comments. When they came into view, Higgins could see Cassandra was reading from a stack of thick papers – possibly rubbings? – while Evelyn and Varric fought to recite the words to the song from memory.

_None shall break my tribe apart,_

_Not with demon-words that kill,_

_Fear my fury’s fiery rays,_

_Dream-words lie, their thirst unslaking_.

“Well done,” Cassandra said, flipping the page. “I believe you have that stanza down perfectly.”

“Ha!” Evelyn said, throwing a fist in the air before reaching out to high-five Varric. “And what timing. Welcome home, guys.”

Cassandra sniffed. “I mean guys in a very non-gender-specific sort of way,” Evelyn clarified.

“Are you coming to the war room today?” Cassandra asked, neatly changing the subject as they rode to the stables to drop off their mounts. Higgins couldn’t help but hear their entire conversation.

“Tomorrow,” Evelyn said. “Let’s take the rest of the afternoon to rest and check in with everyone here, and we’ll meet up for council an hour before noon?”

Cassandra nodded. “That is perfectly reasonable. I will see you then.” She made her way to the tents nearest the gate, where she and the Commander each made their home beside Leliana. Varric had a loft over the tavern where he kept his things, and Solas immediately escaped to his hut by Adan’s with a scroll full of notations about the rifts they had closed. Evelyn meandered over to the gates and had a face-splitting grin for both Glennon and Higgins.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said with a flourish. They responded with a synchronized snap-to-attention and fist-to-breastplate salute that enticed a laugh from their Herald. “How long did you practice that?”

“All day yesterday,” Higgins replied easily, as Glennon hissed at him to shut up.

Evelyn laughed again, a longer and cleaner sound this time. Her trip to the Hinterlands seemed to have done her some good.

“How did everyone fare in my absence?” she asked them.

Glennon gave her a rough outline of the changes to the guard schedule and the addition of the F-Block while Higgins ostensibly kept his eyes on the road.

“F-Block is where the new guys go?” Evelyn said, on the verge of laughter again. “Really?”

Higgins grinned at her. “You can guess what we’ve been calling it.”

“FNG-Block?” She asked, beaming.

“Well done,” Glennon cheered, and the three of them shared a laugh.

“Evelyn!” Aieyla called from their hut. “You’re back!”

Evelyn clapped Higgins and Glennon companionably on the shoulders and then strode off to greet Aieyla. They spent the remaining hours until Third Bell catching up, appearing just in time to wait in line with Glennon, Higgins, and Brown for dinner when their Watch ended.

“Leliana owes me a drink,” Evelyn said darkly as she swallowed the last of her tea. “I know you’re not a fan, Aieyla, but I fully intend to spend the rest of the evening in the tavern.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” the elf maid said with a smile and a wave goodbye for each of her friends at the fire.

“Why does Leliana owe you a drink?” Higgins asked as they all rose from their seats on the log.

“Because it took twice as long to get there as it should have,” Evelyn replied.

“That’s Leliana’s fault?” Glennon asked.

Evelyn snorted. “If she’s willing to accept the blame, I’m willing to accept the drink.”

“I’m going to take my gear back to camp,” Higgins said, indicating his armaments and mess kit. “But if you’re going to sit in the tavern all night, I’d be a fool to miss it.”

Glennon walked with him to their little corner of C-Block and back. Killeen was standing outside her tent a few paces away, at the corner of B-Block nearest them. “Herald’s back,” Higgins called to her as he tossed his things through the tent flap onto his cot. “She said Leliana’s buying her a drink and that she’s spending the evening in the tavern.”

“Fantastic,” Killeen called back. “Bitch owes me a brandy.”

“I thought it was whiskey,” Glennon asked as they hiked back into Haven.

“I don’t drink whiskey,” Killeen answered.

Lieutenant Brown was already seated at a table when they walked in, and Killeen sat beside him wordlessly. Higgins and Glennon hesitated until their Lieutenant waved them over.

“No need to wait for an invitation,” Brown said with an easy smile.

“Didn’t know if these seats were taken, ser,” Higgins said. Glennon added, “Or if fraternization was a concern.”

Killeen and Brown both laughed at the word. “If we didn’t fraternize, we’d never have anybody to talk to,” Killeen said between laughs. “There’s only six Lieutenants!”

“Speaking of fraternization,” Brown said, tipping his chin to indicate the door. Higgins was sitting with his back to it, so he had to rely on the word of his companions; Glennon and Killeen managed to steal glances.

“Varric, Evelyn, Leliana, Cullen, sitting at the bar, in that order.”

If he twisted to the side, he could just make out the Commander’s furred pauldons, but nothing of the man’s companions.

Killeen slapped her hands on the table and pushed herself up. Higgins spun in his seat to watch her cross the bar. She stepped to the space between Evelyn and Varric and put her hands on their shoulders, leaning in so her head was between theirs. Varric and Evelyn both turned to look at her, but her words were swallowed up by the noise of the bar, preventing the soldiers from hearing what she said.

After a moment, Varric threw his head back and roared with laughter, and Evelyn managed to look embarrassed and pleased at the same time. Flissa was depositing their first round in front of them – Fereldan ale for everyone but Evelyn, who had a slightly smaller glass of an Orlesian brew – and Evelyn stopped her and made a show of ordering a drink for Killeen. Killeen gestured at the table she had come from, drawing Flissa and Evelyn’s eyes to the three men seated there. As one, they raised their right hands in acknowledgement. Evelyn made a show of digging into her pocket and producing several coins that she passed to Flissa. Killeen bumped forearms with the Herald and Varric in turn and made her way back to the table.

“What just happened?” Glennon asked as Killeen took her seat.

Killeen nodded at Flissa, who was arriving with four mugs on a tray. They each took one and the tavern keeper was on her way without a word.

“Four good beers are about the same as one neat single malt. You assholes are _welcome_.”

They spoke of their fellow soldiers, things they’d seen on patrol, and their desires – or lack thereof – to be rotated through field assignments. Glennon was apathetic, willing to go with Higgins if he was assigned to the Hinterlands. Killeen, eying the Commander’s back, shook her head at the idea. “That man already takes on too much. I’ll stay here just to steal work from him and keep the poor bastard sane.”

Brown tipped his mug towards Killeen. “I could say the same of you.”

“Says the man who offered to handle all of the Herald’s pet projects,” Higgins teased.

“What’s this now?” Killeen jumped on the lead, leaning towards Brown eagerly.

Brown waved a hand dismissively, but his two soldiers weren’t about to let it go.

“Trevelyan had a list of things she wanted men for… the ice fishing, the elfroot collecting, the iron mining, the druffalo farming. I’m sure there was more.” Higgins and Glennon traded off sentences in their rush to throw Brown to the wolves. “Brownie here told her that if she would tell him everything he needed done, he would see to it all her projects got staffed.”

Killeen started to comment, but Brown silenced them all by saying “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.”

Three jaws clicked shut, and the Antivan leaned back with a smug look of satisfaction. “Thought so.”

“No!” The Herald suddenly cried out at the bar, and all four of them came halfway out of their chairs, hands flying to hilts and eyes darting about for the source of the trouble. “Leliana owed me one,” Evelyn was saying to Commander Cullen, “but I owe you _two_ , you can’t add to my debt!”

Higgins and Glennon dropped back into their seats with self-conscious chuckles, while Brown rolled his eyes and settled his armor before sitting back down. Killeen stood up the rest of the way, making a show of stretching.

A few moments later, the Herald could be heard again, this time speaking to Flissa in a voice clearly pitched to carry through the bar. “I have wronged the Commander! He is a true gentleman, and is allowing me to discharge my debt in spirits.” Brown and Killeen cheered their Commander’s decision, causing the former Templar to redden around the collar. “As I’m sure I’m going to continue to step on toes while we dig our asses out of this mess, I need you to keep a tab for me!”

Evelyn drew her feet up to the seat of her stool and stood up gracefully to tower over the bar. As if only just noticing the bar was full of people, she spread her arms wide to include them all. “Witnesses!” she cried. “I owe all these witnesses a drink! A round for the house!”

Higgins and Glennon pounded on the table and cheered, while Brown clapped loudly and Killeen cupped hands over her mouth to pitch appreciative profanity over the sudden din of the crowd.

Flissa was a flurry of activity, then, pouring mugs as quickly as her hands could move. Lieutenant Brown, not a big drinker, made his way through the sudden press at the bar to stand at her side and help her distribute the ale. Flissa managed a thankful grin before grabbing four cordial glasses and a fancy bottle and returning to the Herald. She laid out the four glasses and poured a dollop in each. Evelyn, Cullen, Leliana, and Varric all downed their drinks – although only Evelyn seemed to enjoy it – and then Cullen and Leliana stood to leave. Evelyn stopped them on their way through the door – the Commander saying something that made her laugh – and then it was just Varric and a bar full of soldiers surrounding their Herald.

“What sort of piss are you drinking?” she asked the man closest to her, his response lost to the crowd. She laughed again, though, and accepted a sip from his mug. She made a face and pushed the mug back at him, causing those immediately around her to burst into laughter. She slipped away from that group – soldiers were coming into the bar in threes and fours now – and made her way over to where Higgins and Glennon were standing near Brown as their Lieutenant helped tend bar.

Evelyn slid between them and the wall, slinging an arm around Higgins’ and Glennon’s shoulders.

“I think I bit off more than I could chew with this one,” she said just loudly for them to hear. The honeyed liquor she’d been drinking was heavy on her breath, giving her words a pleasant sweetness.

Higgins and Glennon responded by each wrapping an arm around her back. “We’ve got Fourth tomorrow,” Higgins told her, “so we can stay as late as you need us to. But, honest, you could leave now and nobody would think twice.”

She tightened her grip on his shoulder briefly. “Just stick with me? I want to make the rounds.”

“Absolutely,” Glennon laughed.

They did just that: Evelyn exchanged at least a greeting with every soldier who came into the tavern that night, with either Higgins or Glennon glued to her side the entire time. Varric took over a table in one corner and alternated between telling stories and taking notes as Evelyn wandered the bar.

Higgins was in the right place to hear the Herald’s sigh of relief when Flissa hollered over the noise for last call.

“How in the Maker’s name are you still upright?” Varric asked as he and Evelyn walked out into the night, Higgins and Glennon yet in tow.

“She only actually drank about a third of what she put to her mouth,” Glennon said wryly. “Another third was spit on the floor, and the last third was tossed over her shoulder.”

“I’m wearing five shots of Sun Blonde,” Higgins said with a laugh.

Evelyn grinned at them both. “Be gentlemen and keep my secrets?”

They snapped to attention and clanged fists over their hearts as they had that afternoon at the gate, and Evelyn trilled a happy laugh that was practically music. Varric waved goodnight and headed for the space he’d claimed above the tavern.

“Any way you can get us out of training in the morning?” Glennon asked as they escorted her back to her hut. The light in the window said Aieyla had waited up for her.

Evelyn snorted, a very unladylike sound that startled a grin out her companions. “I have to haul my ass to the war table an hour before noon. When is your training?”

“An hour after first bell,” Higgins said. “Only five hours earlier.”

“Brown stayed ‘til last call, so if he shows you’re both screwed,” Evelyn pointed out. “But you did me a solid, so I tell you what… I’ll come to training in the morning, too, so we’re all in the same boat.”

“You going to come to Fourth with us as well?” Glennon scoffed.

“Fuck no,” Evelyn answered, drawing a laugh out of them both. “I’ve got war council and then I’ve got to pack and get my ass on the road the next morning. No rest for the wicked, my friends.”

Higgins couldn’t help the smile at being referred to as the Herald’s friend, even if it was just as part of a common saying.

“Where are you off to this time?” Glennon asked as they reached her door.

“Right back to the damn Hinterlands, if the council agrees with me. I’m sure you’ll hear about it tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is one of the verses of the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, Avvar-Mother  
> I figure Ev would have been collecting the verses in the Hinterlands. Trying to work out the beat and learn the lyrics would be a way to pass the time on a journey.


	11. Three Hour Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you should always be careful of what you ask for.  
> Also, bears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bear Vendetta

Much to their surprise, training was cancelled the next morning. If it was possible for the popular opinion of Evelyn Trevelyan to go any higher, it was accomplished three hours later when the first round of new armor was brought out of Harritt’s smithy and issued according to veteran status. Higgins and Glennon had been the first men-at-arms to volunteer for guard duty, and ended up just high enough on the seniority list to make the first round of distribution.

The new armor was sheepskin and steel, the result of the rams Evelyn and Varric had hunted and later caught & tamed. The Eye emblazoned on their chests made Higgins feel even more connected to the Inquisition; he felt a new burst of gratitude that the Maker had brought him to Haven.

The call went out at Second Bell – noon – for everyone who had pulled a guard rotation doing masonry repairs. Higgins had done carpentry with the trebuchets but no stone working and so wasn’t chosen. When he reported for Fourth Watch he was told a contingent of soldiers were being dispatched with the Herald when she returned to the Hinterlands the next day. Fully a quarter of Brown’s unit had been selected, and Higgins was tapped to help bring enough recruits over from F-Block to cover the gap in coverage.

He had a hard time swallowing his bitterness; where he wanted to be was in the Field with the Herald.

They left before First bell, while Higgins stood his watch at the gate and hid his disappointment long enough to give Evelyn a smiling sendoff. He only had a week to wallow before he was called to the Commander’s tent from the training ground.

Roz was occupying a small table at one corner of the tent, while the Commander’s work was arranged in piles of varying depth across two huge desks. A cot was stuck in the far back corner, almost as if sleeping was only an afterthought. The Commander’s notoriously long hours gave merit to the idea.

“Higgins,” Lieutenant Chambreterre greeted him as he entered, and he saluted in response. “Still want a tour through the Hinterlands?”

He felt the grin crease his face before he thought to dial back his reaction. “Absolutely, ser.”

Cullen huffed a laugh as Roz leaned to write Higgins’ name on a duty roster. “The Inquisitor has claimed a camp in the southwest corner of the region and has requested men to hold it. Threnn has already sent one of her officers over; generally speaking the supply chain rules the forward camps, so whoever Threnn sends will be the nominal lead. You will be the most veteran soldier present, however, and will be expected to take command of the soldiers in the camp.”

Higgins nodded. “And Glennon, ser?”

“Who?”

“Karl Glennon, Highever, former man-at-arms of the Arl of Redcliffe, volunteered for guard rotation during the Conclave.” Cullen rattled off the information like he had practiced it.

“Ser?” Higgins managed, shocked.

Cullen merely smiled at him. “The Inquisition is made of people, Higgins.” He turned back to Roz. “Glennon and Higgins are a matched set – you would be remiss to send one and not the other.”

Roz nodded. “As you say, ser. You _and Glennon_ will be the most senior men there, I have faith in your ability to delegate responsibilities.”

“Yes, ser. What is our timetable?”

“We haven’t decided yet what the rotation schedule will be. As time goes on, the Hinterlands camps are likely to become leisure tours, so we’ll need to give everyone an assignment there at some point. Don’t expect to be out for more than a month, though… you’ll need resupply before then, and we’ll need the cart back. You’re on the road tomorrow, First Bell. We have a cart and druffalo for your supplies, but until Horsemaster Dennett is brought around your only transportation is the one the Maker gave you.”

“Understood, ser.”

“Get packing, then,” Roz said with a smile.

 

*

 

The Herald had largely cleared the road from Haven to Redcliffe; Higgins’ party encountered no resistance on their trek to the Forest Camp southwest of Redcliffe and very little debris remained in the road. The men lady Trevelyan had brought with her to build watch towers had taken the opportunity to clear the roadway as they passed through, which markedly reduced the travel time. They were on foot, though, so it was still three days of hard travel to reach the Camp and settle in.

“Welcome to the fucking bear country,” Evelyn said as they unloaded the wagon. She was dressed in multiple thin layers of leather armor, each individual sheet overlapping in such a way as to allow maximal movement and still protect joints and limbs. Her left hand was conspicuously ungloved, the smell of burning leather and sulfur from the anchor the greater evil than unprotected skin. Her daggers were strangely mismatched; it took Higgins a moment to realize the left-hand dagger was badly scorched around the grip and the blade itself discolored from soot.

Higgins met her scowl with a smile. “Problems, ser?”

She grunted irritably. “There’s a fucking trebuchet somewhere to the south of here, lobbing these asshole bears into this camp, I swear on Andraste’s septic bunions.”

“Would you like for us to assemble a team, ser, and dismantle this enemy siege weapon?”

She glanced up, seeming to recognize him suddenly. “Shit, Higgins, what are you doing out here?”

“Supporting the Inquisition and our lady Herald. What’s your story?”

“Rift to the west. Rift to the southeast. Fortress full of twats to the south. And apparently the breeding ground for every fucking bear in fucking Ferelden in between us and them. Even if I wasn’t determined to the close the rifts, only an idiot leaves a fortress full of bandits within striking distance of civilians.”

“What’s the plan, then?”

Evelyn shot him a look of annoyance, although Higgins knew her frustration wasn’t directed at him. “You hold this hill, I don’t care what you have to do. The fucking bears on parade _will_ give you trouble, head’s up. There’s only two ways into this valley – from the north, where you came from, and from the east. The eastern approach is effectively guarded by the camp on the lake and a bitch of a ridgeline. You’ll want to set patrols around those egresses while we’re ranging to the south. Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and I will clear the fortress and rifts. Once everything south of here is _fucking dead_ we’ll work to set a better patrol pattern to hold this corner of the region.”

“So… the four of you are going to sweep out an entire fortress of bandits?” Glennon asked, having finished unloading the cart and listened in on Higgins’ conversation with the Herald.

Seeker Cassandra answered before Evelyn could. “If Trevelyan doesn’t take her aggression out on the bandits, Maker only knows who she might decide to target instead. We’re all safer if she has a focus for her irritation.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk, Seeker,” Varric said snidely. He clapped Higgins’ shoulder in welcome. “Your _focused irritation_ brought Kirkwall to a standstill.”

“Oh, we are not starting _this_ again,” Evelyn said, walking quickly away from the dwarf and the Nevarran. Solas followed her with a laugh. “Good luck with the bears, Higgins,” the Herald called over her shoulder as she led her strike team to the south.

Higgins and Glennon set a tight watch, expecting marauding bears to level their tents at any moment. It was hours before anyone so much as _saw_ a bear, and even then it was far off to the south.

As soon as the Herald returned that evening, the remnants of a dozen demons smeared across her armor, a series of bears tore into camp. Higgins mobilized the soldiers while Glennon helped Cassandra pull the beasts away from the alchemical supplies. It was a long fight, and after nearly half an hour there were six massive bears to be skinned and the meat cut and dried into strips.

“We’re going to be eating bear for the next fucking decade at this rate,” the Herald grumbled as she helped clean and harvest the beasts. “And every last one of us will have a set of armor like the fucking Commander’s.”

“Were there any reports of bear activity before you arrived?” Glennon asked, hesitant to imply that the Herald herself seemed to be attracting the monstrous bears into the camp.

“No! Fucking Harding could have warned me. Or Leliana. Nightingale could have sent me a fucking raven with a warning, for fuck’s sake. I’ll bet the fucking Commander _wanted_ another hundred damn bear skins. Vainglorious bastard wants a legion of bearskin barbarians to follow after him into battle.”

Imagining Commander Cullen as _vainglorious_ caused Glennon to choke on his ale, a small amount shooting out of his nose.

The sight of Glennon holding his face and bemoaning the loss of good ale to his sinus cavity set the Herald to giggling, a sound too high pitched and girlish to possibly be produced by her throat. It was a painfully contagious sound, and soon half the camp was laughing along with her.

 

*

 

A raven arrived the next morning, winging into camp just as Evelyn was telling her team it was time to leave.

“Information for you, ser,” the bird handler said, trotting over to hand the missive to the Herald. A fierce grin split Evelyn’s face as she read the Nightingale’s fine script, and she tucked the scrap of paper into a pocket hidden in her armor. “We have a detour to make. We’re riding north first, a quick errand to run before we check in with Dennett. The Bear War will have to wait until tomorrow.”

Nobody had the heart to tell Trevelyan that not a single bear came into camp while she was away.

When she returned that evening, she had acquired a fifth member in her party; a painfully thin elf clung to the back of Evelyn’s saddle. She swung down quickly, and then helped the shaking man dismount. He was quickly led to the fire and had a bowl of stew pressed into his hands.

“Everything is going to be better from here on out,” Evelyn said gently as she encouraged him to sit.

“I don’t understand,” he told her, in the tone of an oft-repeated question. “Why are you doing this?”

“Your name is Mahvrin? You come from the alienage at Val Royeaux? The jackass I dragged to the crossroads held you as an indentured servant and fled the city when civil war broke out?”

The elf nodded, somehow even more confused. His hair was blond and wispy, and bore the telltale thinness that comes from long-term malnourishment.

“Do you know someone named Aieyla?”

The change that came over his face was incredible. Higgins averted his gaze, subconsciously giving the man a little privacy as he fought to control his emotions. “You know my Aieyla? Does she live?”

“Oh, she lives. She’s a right bully. She’s decided she’s going to run my life, and you’re going to give her something else to take care of.”

He laughed, then, a reedy and weak sound that was nonetheless genuine.

Evelyn rubbed his shoulder as she stood and found a bowl of stew for herself. She got two bites in before the first bear came into camp. Higgins and Glennon set themselves to protecting Mahvrin and gave Evelyn and her team space to take on the bears without interference.

Something about the mark on her hand must have been drawing them in, as they would scarcely get one killed before another would charge into the camp. They fought a seemingly endless tide of bears for over an hour, until Varric was completely out of bolts and Evelyn was shaking like a leaf in the wind. She staggered back into camp and apologized immediately to Glennon.

“I don’t have it in me to try to drag any of those bastards around, I’m sorry. Can I leave cleanup to you and your men?”

“Absolutely, ser,” he answered, banging a fist to his breastplate. “There’s a basin of water in your tent if you’d like to clean up before you get some sleep. Its likely stone cold by now, though.”

She smiled gratefully and disappeared into the tent she shared with Cassandra, the Seeker close on her heels. Varric helped clean and dress the bears, taking the opportunity to retrieve as many of his bolts as he could. Solas sat near Mahvrin and assessed the man’s condition, counseling the new arrival on how best to recover from what had essentially been a prolonged imprisonment.

Evelyn needed two more days to solidify the Inquisition’s control on the region, and a third day after that to load all the bear skins into the cart. The soldiers responsible for building Dennett’s watch towers had left for Haven the day Evelyn had recovered Mahvrin, and since they were bringing in a literal herd of horses, they would arrive nearly a week before Evelyn and her team. The cart Higgins’ team had brought with them to the Hinterlands was used to take the bear skins back to Haven, and Mahvrin was given the job of driving it.

“We’ll send the cart back with supplies. Remember help is only a raven away,” Evelyn said as she prepared to leave. “The other camps are being populated with soldiers, as well, so backup is closer than Haven. Do not hesitate to send for help if you need it.”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins said, bringing his fist to his chest. “And since you never do as you're told: ride fast and take chances.”

Evelyn threw her head back and laughed, the sound disappearing into the woods as she rode off to the north and back to Haven.

Glennon, Higgins, and the requisition officer named Ingrid stood over the rough map of their holdings and plotted out the patrol routes Evelyn and Cassandra had suggested. The Herald had claimed the Hinterlands, and it was the Inquisition soldiers’ job to hold it.

Higgins and Glennon each took responsibility for half the circuits, with Higgins focused on the east and south while Glennon took the north and west. They personally took every soldier out and walked the route with them to make sure their responsibilities were clear. The sites of the closed rifts were carefully marked and monitored, and a daily rotation through the fortress to the south was set to keep bandits from moving back in.

Higgins was leading the last of the men through their first circuit of the eastern pass when Jenson, who had grown up in the area, suddenly froze. “Did you hear that?”

Higgins followed suit, and waved the other soldiers to silence. “What?”

“A jingle, like from tack or mail. The ridge carries sound…” She was looking around for cover or defensible ground.

There was none.

There were easily thirty of them: Avvar, armed and angry. They poured over the ridge as soon as it was clear their prey was aware of the ambush.

“Where is your Herald? The mouth of your false god?” The warrior who seemed to be the leader demanded.

“She’s already gone, been gone for days,” Higgins spat at him. “And she has no intention of returning.”

“You know of her intentions?” he asked, zeroing in on Higgins. “Who are you to know her plans?”

“I’m the man in charge of this unit,” Higgins answered evenly, keenly feeling Glennon’s absence.

“Take them,” the warrior said over his shoulder, and the last thing Higgins saw was the inside of the burlap bag that came down over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of course it was Higgins.  
> *  
> In other news, my husband is FINALLY playing the single player campaign (mostly because I won't let him read this until he's finished the game at least once) and played thru the Hinterlands.  
> "You weren't fucking kidding about the bears," he said, after I heard the unmistakable "Roar! WTF BEAR?!" from his side of the office. VINDICATION.


	12. Lost Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Evelyn illustrates why everyone should learn CPR.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW WITH ART!  
> From the incredible [dissatisfied_doodles](http://dissatisfied-doodles.tumblr.com/)

He was aware of being wet. Thoroughly, miserably, endlessly wet. The closest swamp to the Hinterlands was a worthless stretch of land with a tendency towards plagues and undead uprisings called the Fallow Mire. The smell alone told Higgins that he was likely in the middle of that disgusting bog. At least a dozen times during their transport into the ‘Mire, Higgins fell into fetid water; in three of those he inhaled a mouthful before being lifted up. Whenever he – or one of the others – splashed into the water, the sounds of combat immediately rose around him. He didn’t know what was attacking them, but it seemed something the Avvar had well in hand.

He stumbled in darkness for two days before feeling the marsh turn to flagstones under his feet. They were in some kind of keep, although the cold and the wet still carried in the air said it was in poor repair. Then he was being pushed into a pile of hay and the bag ripped from his head. A torch spluttered nearby and the light blinded him after days of darkness; by the time he blinked his vision clear a heavy door was being slammed behind them and a bar dropped in place.

“Everyone alright?” a voice – Jenson’s – called from a corner of the room.

Higgins tried to answer and instead launched into a violent coughing fit.

“Higgins about half-drowned a few times. Water might have settled in his lungs. He’s going to need a medic sooner than later. Can’t imagine making that walk with my head in a bag.” Pierce answered her.

Their fourth – a normally taciturn archer by the name of Walker – knelt at Higgins’ side and placed the back of a hand to his forehead. “No fever, at least not yet.”

“I was… the only one… bagged?” Higgins gasped as he fought to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” Jenson said, shaking her head. “Idiot Avvar… think you have some kind of connection with the Herald, since you’re ‘the leader’ of our band and you knew what her plan was. They’re demanding Trevelyan herself come to free us, so why would it matter if she _could_ see what you saw? I’m surprised these assholes haven’t killed themselves off yet.”

“The Herald isn’t coming for us,” Pierce said, idly kicking the stone wall of their prison. “She’s got far bigger fish to fry than four nobodies in a bog. And the Avvar _negotiations_ are an obvious trap. Neither she nor the Commander will fall for it.”

“There are rifts here,” Jenson argued. “I could see them from the causeway. That, and the undead, and the plague… the Herald will come here eventually. All we have to do is stay alive until then.”

Pierce gestured at Higgins. “We don’t have a long time to wait.”

“Then we don’t wait,” Higgins said in a tone that brokered no argument. “We’ll just have to break out.”

 

*

 

The plan was simple: wait until someone came to feed them, or give them water, or mock them… it didn’t matter why the door was opened, not really. But once they heard the bar lift, they would assume flanking positions and _one of them_ had to get out the door. The door was barred, not locked, so anybody on the other side could get it opened. Once out, the escapee would find a place to hide and wait for an opportunity to free the others. If they got lucky and everyone got out, they would risk a flight across the bogs.

“Something about hitting the water brings the undead out,” Jenson told Higgins as they were fleshing out their plan. “But they’re zombies… slow moving, the archers have crappy aim. We could outrun them one-legged if we had to.”

It was easy enough… they just needed an opportunity.

What they weren’t counting on was the torch going out before anyone came to check on them.

When the door finally cracked open – by Higgin’s best guess two days had passed – the daylight streaming in the portal blinded them all. A sack was thrown onto the floor and four Avvar stalked into the room. Two of them made a quick circuit of the room, lightly kicking the Inquisition soldiers to make sure they were still alive. The largest of them stood in the doorway, blocking any hope of slipping around. The fourth replaced the old torch with a new one, lighting it and leaving a spare leaning against the wall nearby. The buckets they’d been using for privies were hauled out and three new ones left in their place.

The three Avvar who had entered the room left, standing just outside the door while the fourth stared down at Higgins.

“Scout Harding wants your names,” he said.

“Scout… what?” Higgins managed before a ripping cough left him fighting for breath.

“I’m Jenson,” she spoke up for him. “He’s Higgins. That’s Pierce, and Walker.”

The Avvar nodded stiffly and then the door swung shut behind him.

“I don’t understand,” Higgins said, the words stumbling out slowly.

Pierce pressed cold fingers against his forehead. “He’s burning up,” he said to Jenson.

Jenson crouched next to Higgins, taking his hand in her own. “Scout Harding wanted our names. That means she’s here, looking for us, before they send the Herald in. Just like in the Hinterlands, when they sent Lace to establish a base camp before Trevelyan even got on the road. Telling her our names is a way of verifying we’re alive. Or how many of us survived the trip, at least.”

“It’s also possible they weren’t sure we were even here. I would have suspected us of desertion.”

Higgins shook his head. “Never,” he coughed out the word.

“Never suspect it? Or you’d never desert?” Pierce asked with a slight smile. They’d had little reason to hope as they sat in the darkness. Word of Scout Harding’s presence was like the promise of dawn.

“Not… without… Glennon…” Higgins managed, and then another violent bout of coughing made talking impossible.

“He’s got a point,” Jenson said as Higgins fought for breath. “If Higgins were going to desert, he would have taken Glennon with him. They go everywhere together. Everybody knows it, too – that’s why they both were sent along. Glennon told me as much, the second night in camp; he was only along because Higgins wanted the assignment.”

“You’re friends with the Herald, too, aren’t you?” Walker asked, lightly patting Higgins’ knee.

Higgins could only shrug.

“Maybe she’ll come along to get you sprung, and the rest of us can ride on your coattails, eh?”

Higgins shook his head, but another violent cough kept him from answering.

Jenson opened up the bag that had been thrown in, and found four heavy waterskins – a leaky patch on the wall had been their source of water before now – and a few days’ worth of rations for them each. She divided up the spoils and they sat in the flickering torchlight, their hope only interrupted by Higgins’ worsening hacking cough.

 

*

 

The sounds of fighting started just as the second torch started to near its end. They’d delayed as long as they could before lighting it, going so far as to light a bit of straw and make a secondary fire from the cinder left when the first torch burnt itself out. Their water was getting dangerously close to running out, even with being supplemented by the slow drip on the wall.

Higgins couldn’t lift his head. His breath was rattling weakly in his chest, and he hadn’t spoken in more than a day. His rations sat near his head, untouched, although he’d gotten the lion’s share of the water.

Pierce hovered nervously at Higgins’ side.

The Herald’s voice was suddenly unmistakable beyond the door, demanding the release of her soldiers. The Avvar leader roared something back about false gods and then the battle was on again. The room they were locked in shook and the sound of stone breaking and rocks falling made it seem like the keep was being torn apart.

Then only silence, and for fifteen anxious heartbeats they waited for their fate: either the Herald had won and they were saved, or the Avvar had effectively destroyed all hope for the salvation of the world and a quick death would be their last request.

The bar lifted, and a damp – and very angry – Herald strode through the door.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked, peering through the sputtering torchlight.

“Higgins needs healing, ser,” Jenson answered immediately.

“Higgins is here?” the Herald hurried across the room to the prone soldier in the straw. “Solas! Solas, I need you!”

The elven mage came immediately to her side.

“He was dropped into the bog a few times and came up choking,” Pierce explained as Solas assessed Higgins’s condition. “We think the rot settled in his lung. He’s been burning up for… days, I suppose. We haven’t had a good grasp of time in here.”

“His lung has collapsed,” Solas said grimly. “A potion will do the most for the infection, and I can ease his breathing, but I don’t have the ability to re-inflate his lung.”

“Do what you can,” Evelyn answered. “Varric, give me what potions you have left.”

The dwarf, who had been standing in the doorway, wordlessly handed over three small bottles. Evelyn cracked the seal and poured the first into Higgins’ mouth as quickly as she dared.

“Don’t worry too much if he inhales a bit of it,” Solas reassured her. “Since the problem is in his lung _any_ ways…”

Evelyn nodded and Solas raised his hands over Higgins’ chest and cast his healing magics. The soldier took a gasping breath, and Evelyn could see that only the right side of his chest seemed to move on the inhale. He was definitely breathing easier, but with how he had struggled for breath before it wasn’t saying much.

Evelyn got Higgins to swallow the rest of the potion, and he seemed to regain a bit of consciousness.

“Herald,” he gasped, and a weak smile crossed his features.

“What else can we do, Solas?” She asked, trying to keep her expression calm and reassuring for Higgins.

Solas shook his head. “I don’t have the mana remaining to try to inflate his lung, I am sorry. Just alleviating some of the inflammation and fever was exhausting. I have heard of assistive breathing, wherein a person forces his breath into another, but I wouldn’t know…”

“I need you to trust me,” Evelyn interrupted Solas, speaking softly and quickly to Higgins. Higgins, for his part, met her eyes and nodded weakly. “I want you to breathe out as much as you can, ready? Breathe in deep, and now out out out out…”

As Higgins forced as much air out of his lung as he could, Evelyn took one huge gasp of air and bent her head down to seal her mouth over his, pinching his nose shut and blowing out with as much force as she could manage. As she broke free, Higgins reflexively gasped, and drew even more air in. He fought for a couple minutes to catch his breath, and with each subsequent inhale his left side moved a small amount more.

“How did you…” Jenson tried to find words for her awe.

“It is what you do for people who have drowned, when they have stopped breathing but their hearts yet beat,” Evelyn explained as she sat back to catch her breath. “You learn it when you grow up anywhere near the Waking Sea. When Solas said ‘assistive breathing’ I figured that was what he meant.”

She turned her attention back to the mage. “Do you think he is stable enough to make it out of here?”

Solas spent some time checking Higgins over, paying particular attention to his breathing and heart rate. “I think we can get him as far as the camp at Fisher’s End.”

Evelyn ended up riding double, with Higgins sitting behind her on the Charger, on a mad dash through the swamp to take the injured soldier back to Fisher’s End without subjecting him to the undead. Evelyn had rushed her team through the bogs to the Avvar fortress to rescue the hostages, resolving to take her time in solving the undead problem once they were safe.

“Can you get him back to Haven?” She asked the requisition officer in Fisher’s End as she swung down from her horse. “He has need of better medical attention than we can provide to him here.”

“We are expecting a resupply within the next day or two; I can clear off that cart and have him on it and on his way back to Haven within an hour of its arrival.”

Higgins was set up in a tent to wait for the rest of the rescued soldiers to arrive. Evelyn rode back to where she had left the team, and helped them fight their way back across the bog to Fisher’s End. She and Solas sat with Higgins that night, the elf insisting that the soldier was showing consistent improvement.

“Evelyn?” Higgins’ voice rasped in the small hours of the morning, causing the Herald to scramble to his side.

“You’re only calling me that because Killeen isn’t here to kick your ass,” Evelyn answered him lightly.

His weak laugh caused another bout of coughing, but it was more productive and less painful than before.

“Thank you,” he said once he’d caught his breath. “You didn’t have to…”

“You’re welcome,” she interrupted. “And I did. I really did. Can you imagine the lost-puppy look on Glennon’s face if I didn’t? And Aieyla would go on strike, and _then_ where would I be?”

Higgins shook his head. “You didn’t know I was here.”

Evelyn smiled down at him; while he couldn’t see her face in the darkness, he could hear the smile in her voice. “No, I didn’t know you were here. I came because it was the right thing to do, regardless of the fact that the person I was saving is on the short list of people who will actually have a conversation with me, one of the few who seem to realize I’m still a person, regardless of the magic embedded in my left hand. But knowing it was you couldn’t have made me move any faster than I already did.”

“Good,” Higgins replied, and slid back into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to get into a nerdy discussion of surfactant and the relative pressure required to inflate a lung relative to the force the diaphragm can impart. And the possible necessity of a full exhale to reduce risk to the intact lung given relative resistance. And how much better practicing medicine could be if we had even a little bit of magic to help us.  
> Instead, I'll say... my husband had a collapsed lung, and I really wish it could have been this easy to fix.  
> Also, the shit the surgeon says in Skyhold sets my teeth on edge. Even more so because I know it's historically accurate.


	13. Inhuman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, to set up... oh, gosh, everything.

It was a slow four days back to Haven, accelerated by the cart helpfully arriving in Fisher’s End the first morning after their rescue. Higgins was slowly recovering, but his care was given over to Lady Vivienne de Fer immediately on his arrival in Haven. Jenson, Pierce, and Walker were examined and released, while Higgins was kept in the infirmary Evelyn had established in the Chantry for nearly a week.

The Herald came to check on him when she finally returned to Haven, some five days after the rescued soldiers.

“You going to live?” she asked without preamble when she walked into the infirmary. There were no other inhabitants; those who were injured in the fighting after the Conclave explosion had either recovered, died, or been sent home. There had been no new rifts on the mountain since Evelyn had calmed the Breach, and the only other Inquisition presence – in the Hinterlands – was notably quieter now that the Herald had killed all the combatants.

Higgins managed a laugh. “Yes, ser. I owe you my thanks.”

“So,” she said, dragging a chair to his bedside to sit and kicking her heels up onto the bed next to him. She crossed her ankles and leaned back, tucking her hands behind her head. “Tell me. What the bloody fuck were you doing so far south?”

Higgins shook his head. “I wasn’t. Glennon and I had established patrol routes with Ingrid, and we were personally taking everyone through them to make sure they knew the right routes. The Avvar set an ambush just over that ridgeline to the east of the Forest Camp and fell on us; Jenson had heard them but we didn’t have anywhere to go. They had us outnumbered 5 or 6 to one. The leader asked where you were, I said you were already gone and had no intention of returning. He said something about me knowing your intentions, and that’s when I got the bag on my head.”

“So they grabbed you in the Hinterlands with the express purpose of getting to me,” she said, mostly to herself. With a sad shake of her head, she reached a hand down to pat Higgins’ knee. “I’m sorry you got pneumonia and nearly died because some Avvar asshole couldn’t just write me a letter.”

Higgins shrugged. “Not your fault, ser. I’m thrilled you decided to take him on and rescue us.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “I would have gotten there sooner if I wasn’t engaged for Val Royeaux. And I suppose that was for the best, since Madame de Fer was here to heal you when you returned. I should warn you, one of the Avvar signed on with the Inquisition. If you see him, don’t panic.”

“I’m not one for panic,” Higgins replied with a smile, and Evelyn clapped him on the shoulder companionably as she stood to leave.

“Glad to hear it. _One_ of us needs to be. Try to avoid getting yourself killed, alright? I need more people around here who remember I’m human, not less.”

“I will do my best to stay alive, my lady Trevelyan,” he told her, sincerely.

He was released from Madame de Fer’s care two days later, and sent directly to the Commander with orders to go on light duty until his lung was fully healed.

“Welcome back.” The Commander’s greeting was more a friendly growl. “Madame de Fer has sent word you are to be on light duty until she says otherwise. Lieutenant Brown is aware of your injury and will see to it you are properly reconditioned.”

“Yes, ser.” Higgins replied, bringing a fist up to his chest. “Thank you, ser.”

“Higgins,” Cullen said as Higgins was backing out of the tent. “A question, if I may.”

“Yes, ser?”

“There are varying reports of your rescue. I would like… to hear the accurate version, for my report to the war council.”

“I’m sure the Herald’s version was accurate, ser?” Higgins asked, allowing his confusion to show.

“The Herald left for the Storm Coast before giving a full report,” Commander Cullen replied. He gestured to a chair across the desk.

Higgins sat down uncertainly and told the story of his capture and rescue as best he could.

“So the Herald popped my lung back open, slung me over the back of her horse, and took me back to the camp at Fisher’s End. The supply cart came the next day, and I was loaded onto it with my team and sent back here. Which reminds me, ser, did Glennon send my gear back?”

“The Herald _popped your lung back open_ , you say? How did she do that?”

Higgins shifted, awkwardly. “She said it was the same thing they do when a person is drowning. Blow your own air into them, force the water out. In my case, force the air in. The mage, Solas, suggested it.”

Cullen was staring at him strangely. Suddenly the Commander seemed to remember himself, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes. Well. Thank you, Higgins, I am glad to have the whole story for my report.”

“Of course, ser. But, ser… my gear? Did Glennon send it back?”

“Glennon is _bringing_ back your gear when his rotation ends next week. In the meantime, Threnn will provide what you need. I’ve already sent word to her to expect you.”

Higgins rose and backed quickly out of the tent. “Yes, ser, thank you.”

The tent flap fell shut between them and Higgins fled the odd encounter.

Threnn was taciturn as usual, and Higgins quickly bundled up his temporary gear and started towards the encampment.

“Here, let us carry that,” a voice Higgins couldn’t quite place called from behind him as he felt the heavy bag lifted from his shoulder. Hands stripped the ditty bag and armor out of his grasp. Higgins turned and found Aieyla, her arms full of his newly requisitioned gear, smiling at him with another elf who seemed familiar.

“Higgins, you remember Mahvrin?”

“Maker’s Breath, man, I didn’t recognize you,” Higgins replied, awestruck by the change that had come over the elf.

He had gained easily a stone already, his face fuller and his hair noticeably thicker, although it had been shaved off recently to allow for new growth to come in evenly. His back and shoulders were straight, but the biggest change was in his eyes. The haunted look was gone. Standing next to Aieyla, he was a man again, instead of a victim.

“Having a roof over one’s head and regular meals do wonders for the constitution,” Mahvrin answered easily. “I understand the Herald is responsible for your continued wellbeing, as well?”

Higgins laughed, awkwardly self-conscious. “Yeah. So much for Inquisition soldiers protecting _her_. Did you see her fight that night, when the bears came into camp?”

Mahvrin nodded soundlessly. Aieyla looked between them, curious, as they walked down to the encampment.

Higgins shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone move that quickly. I saw her take out Killeen one night in a spar, but that? Nobody could stand against that, not for long.”

“Higgins!” Killeen’s voice called to him from B-block as the trio made its way slowly down the aisle between her camp and C-Block.

“I still have my ‘site?” Higgins called back. He could just see the top of her head as she weaved her way in between tents to meet him in the aisle.

“Of course you do. If anything happens to you, Brown himself will take that spot. He’s not going to give it to just any old asshole.”

The tent he’d shared with Glennon was still in place, as they’d been given a set of larger, rugged, more permanent tents to set up in the Forest Camp rather than pulling up and taking the one in the C-Block encampment. The tent itself was empty, their meager possessions having gone with them on their rotation through the Hinterlands. Something about Glennon's gear being gone bothered Higgins more than his own missing possessions. Mahvrin and Aieyla carefully placed his temporary gear inside the tent and took their leave. Aieyla made Higgins promise to come to their hut for dinner the next time he was assigned Third Watch.

“The Herald’s hut?” he asked.

“Evelyn gave it to us when she returned from the Hinterlands with Mahvrin,” Aieyla said, a bit shyly. “She’s taken a tent near Commander Cullen and Seeker Cassandra for when she’s in Haven, which admittedly hasn’t been very often.”

He waved his understanding and stated his promise to come to dinner, and the reunited elves walked back to Haven hand-in-hand.

Killeen reached him about then and set up his cot and bedroll while Higgins went through the armor he was issued. What he’d been wearing in the Fallow Mire was horribly rusted and damaged from being drug through a swamp, and had been turned over to Master Harritt for recycling.

“The Herald gave her hut to Aieyla and Mahvrin?” he asked her as they worked.

“The Herald gave you a lip lock and breathed you back to life?” Killeen countered.

Higgins paused to consider it. “I didn’t think of it like that, but… yeah, I guess so.”

Killeen dropped the pillow she was pulling from the compression sack. “Wait, what? Really?”

Higgins shrugged. “My lung filled with water, turned into a fever, and then collapsed. The mage, Solas, did what healing he could and they gave me a potion that helped, but the lung needed to be reinflated. So the Herald used her own air. She said it was something she’d been taught to do as a girl growing up in the Free Marches, to be used in case of drowning. Solas called it assistive breathing.”

“You’re telling me,” Killeen was speaking very precisely, carefully enunciating each word, “that the Herald of bloody Andraste leaned over your body, put her mouth on yours, and used her own breath to refill your lung?”

“Maker’s balls, Killeen, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Did she taste like honey brew?”

“Did she… What? No! I don’t know! I was half-dead. She could have tasted like mabari crunch and I wouldn’t have cared.”

Killeen burst into laughter then. “The way Pierce tells it…”

“Pierce can tell it however the fuck Pierce wants to tell it. Like you said, she’s the Herald of bloody Andraste. She fought through miles of plague-ridden swamp and a legion of undead to bring some poor Fereldan sod back from the very edge of Death. She needs us to remember she’s human, and after waking up and hearing she’s personally responsible for my life… It was one thing for her to close the rift, to stop the demons. But this? This is _personal_. She saved my life, Killeen.”

“Is she still human to you?” Killeen asked, cutting to the heart of the problem.

“No,” Higgins replied, wincing as if it hurt to admit. “And she needs to be. She told me she needed me around, since I was one of the few who treated her like a person. But, Killeen…”

“She literally breathed you back to life. I get it. She closed the holes in the air with her glowing hand, killed hundreds of undead, slew the Avvar holding you captive, and then saved you with a kiss. It’s a bloody fairy story, and you’re no prince,” Killeen chuckled, the same sound that had turned Higgins’ head that first day in Haven. “Everything she does make her less real.”


	14. Un-Elfy Elves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aieyla and Sera, stickin' it to the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn and Cullen's conversation at the bar can be found in Chapter 4 of Of Fear & Lyrium
> 
> IN OTHER NEWS:  
> In honor of me GETTING THE JOB I've been in the running for, I'm going slightly nuts and posting like three chapters tonight. WOOOOOOOOOOO!

The story went through the encampment within hours: _Higgins said it actually happened. Higgins reported it to the Commander. Higgins verified it to Killeen_. By the end of the week, Higgins’ name had been dropped off the story, and as new recruits came through the door the story was passed on as just a part of the greater legend of the Herald of Andraste.

Two new deployments were sent to the Storm Coast while Higgins was on light duty, and a third was sent to the Hinterlands to relieve Glennon's team. Madame de Fer approved Higgins' return to regular duty the day before the Herald returned, soggy and foul tempered. His first shift back fell on Fourth Watch, so he and Glennon were deeply asleep when lady Trevelyan brought the Iron Bull and his Chargers through the army encampment.

Cremisius Aclassi was leaning on the wall near the gate when Higgins trotted up to Haven that afternoon for lunch and news.

“Higgins,” Brown greeted him as he approached the cook fire. “Did you meet Krem? At the gate?”

Higgins shook his head, more focused on the bowl in his hands, as he’d slept through breakfast.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Stew in hand, Higgins followed Lieutenant Brown back out the gate. “Krem, this is Higgins. He and Glennon were the two I was telling you about.”

Higgins choked a bit at the introduction, dropping his spoon and offering a hand to the armored Tevinter, who took it in a firm if brief clasp.

“Didn’t meet you this morning when we arrived,” Krem said by way of explanation. “Brown said his company had late watch and was likely all asleep, so we skipped C-Block on the tour. I noted your campsite, though, and asked what somebody had to do for that spot.”

Higgins grinned at the memory. “I wondered the same thing. I think Brown and Glennon have a thing on the side.”

Brown and Krem both laughed, as Brown shook his head. “You are Glennon just aren’t my type, Higgins, I keep telling you. I’m sure the tall-pale-and-brunette thing is perfectly good for Fereldan women, but I just don’t fall in that group.”

Higgins rolled his eyes. “Antivans,” he said, and went back to his stew.

“What we were actually told,” Krem said as Brown excused himself and passed back through the gates, “was that you and Glennon were the only two actual fighters they recruited that day, and he and Killeen had been arguing over you ever since. I suggested they each take one, but they said you’re a matched pair. I’d like to see you fight, if you’re willing to indulge me.”

Higgins nodded as he continued on his stew. “It won’t be much of a fight,” he said between bites. “I am just getting off light duty. Got beat up by some Avvar a few weeks back. Only had one Watch duty since I got back from the Fallow Mire, and haven’t had a morning in the practice ring yet. But if it’s really important to you, you’re welcome to watch Glennon struggle to keep my ass intact.”

Krem laughed again. “I haven’t quite learned the rotation here yet – only been here one morning. When is your next morning practice?”

“I had Fourth last night,” Higgins said, thinking it through. “It’s a five-day rotation, so I’ll have Fourth again in four days. We report to the training yard on the mornings before Third and Fourth Watch. So…”

“Three mornings from now,” Krem concluded. “Understood. If you want any extra practice, feel free to come find me. I understand how hard it is to get back into fighting form after an injury.”

Higgins thanked Krem and then excused himself to go back into Haven, seeking a second helping.

“Higgins!” Aieyla called to him as he came through the gate. He was tempted to continue on to the food line, but she grabbed his elbow and tugged him towards her hut. “Evelyn came back this morning, and Mother Giselle has agreed to perform the ceremony. It won’t be much, but we’d like it if you and Glennon were there.”

“For… what, now?”

“We’re getting _married_ you halfwit. Go get Glennon.”

“But…” Higgins looked sadly at his bowl and then to the lunch line.

“I will feed you.”

“Fetching Glennon, then, ser,” he said, and left Haven at a run.

Glennon was just returning from the bathing tent when Higgins trotted up to their camp. “Hope your armor’s shined.”

“What? Why? There’s no inspection today.”

“Mahvrin and Aieyla are getting married. Having a little ceremony in the chantry now that the Herald is back. She wants us there.”

As Glennon dressed, Killeen and Brown strolled up to their tent. “Did Aieyla tell you?”

Higgins nodded. “Just waiting on Glennon.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Glennon’s muffled voice came from inside the tent, accompanied by dull crashes and the occasional curse. He popped out of the tent flaps a remarkably short time later, looking relatively well put together. Killeen and Higgins quickly tugged all the buckles and buttons into place, straightening Glennon’s armor as he ran his hands through his hair and stomped his feet into his boots.

“Maker’s nosehair, you two are almost impossible to tell apart from the back when you’re unarmed,” Brown said as the four of them made their way back into Haven.

“Are you really just noticing that?” Glennon grouched.

“No, Higgins’ hair is just a touch lighter,” Killeen said. “And Glennon’s got the scuff on his shoulder from slinging his shield onto his back, see?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Brown said, as Higgins and Glennon exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

“Are you done admiring Glennon’s shoulders, ser?” Higgins asked, just as they approached the gates.

“Ah ha!” Krem called. “The truth of the good campsite comes out!”

Brown colored helplessly while the other three laughed and continued into Haven.

Aieyla was waiting for them just outside the hut she previously shared with Evelyn. The Herald was standing beside her, resplendent in the dragon-inspired armor the Inquisition had provided her. Higgins noted she only wore it in Haven; in the Hinterlands she had dressed in much more nondescript mottled browns and black. She smiled when she saw them approach, and Higgins fought to see her as a _person_ and not the mortal vessel of Andraste’s will.

“Andraste’s soiled knickers, you two are damn near indistinguishable when you’re unarmed,” she said by way of greeting. Higgins laughed, relieved as the swearing noblewoman reminded him of her humanity. Glennon was shaking his head, while Brown and Killeen assured the Herald they had just noted the same thing.

“Maker’s breath, maybe one of us should shave our heads, if this is going to be a recurring concern,” Glennon whispered loudly to Higgins.

Higgins put his hands to his head. “Not me. If it’s that important to you, _you_ shave.”

Glennon merely grunted. Evelyn laughed and moved to stand between them, slinging her arms over their shoulders as they all followed Aieyla up the hill to the Chantry.

“Do you remember this at all, lady Trevelyan?” Glennon asked with a smile.

“No? Should I?”

With a quick jerk of his chin to Higgins, who nodded, once, in return, the two men quickly leaned down and swept Evelyn’s feet out from under her, clasping their hands together behind her back and under her knees. She was lifted into the air, laughing richly, and carried to the Chantry like a queen on a mobile throne.

They passed a frowning Commander, Higgins and Glennon keeping their eyes resolutely turned away from a glower that could sink greater men than they into the dirt his feet. Evelyn waved gamely, laughing again when they set her down at the Chantry doors.

“Why should I remember that?” she asked happily.

Higgins and Glennon exchanged another look. As Higgins shook his head, Glennon softly replied, “It is how Higgins and I carried you down off the mountain, the last day of the Conclave.”

The smile slowly slipped from her features, and she looked sadly at the matched pair of Fereldan farmboys who had become Inquisition soldiers. She reached up and cupped their cheeks with her hands. “Thank you,” she said, and pulled the smile back onto her face.

“Our pleasure, your Worship,” Higgins answered immediately. He was reward with a light slap from the hand she yet held to his face.

“Don’t you start that, asshole,” she said. “If _you_ forget I’m human, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“It might be too late for that,” Killeen said lightly as they swung open the Chantry door and passed through single-file. “Between watching you fight those bears and you blowing his lung open in the ‘Mire, Higgins is becoming your chief disciple.”

Evelyn glanced at Higgins over her shoulder, clearly not liking what she saw in his face. “Well, shit,” she said.

Brown snorted a laugh. “Language in the Chantry, your Worship?”

Evelyn raised her hand in a rude gesture, only to immediately have the hand slapped down by Aieyla.

It was a short ceremony. Aieyla and Mahvrin had been living together since his return to Haven, so Mother Giselle’s words were largely a formality. In short order they were filing back out of the Chantry and heading to Aieyla’s hut near the gates.

“Are you staying for lunch, Evelyn?” Aieyla asked as she ushered the four soldiers and her new husband through the door.

“No,” the Herald replied, meeting Higgins’ eyes when he turned to hear her answer. “No, I… have a lot of catching up to do, and you deserve a few days off. I’ll handle my own appointments and correspondence for now, so you can settle in.”

“Evelyn, I-“

“Please. It’s the least I can do. Consider it your wedding present.”

Aieyla shook her head, took a step towards the Herald, but Evelyn pulled away. Her eyes never left Higgins. “Congratulations, Aieyla. I am so very happy for you both.” She turned on her heel and stalked away.

Aieyla rounded on Higgins. “What did you _do_?”

“What did _I_ do?” he replied, aghast. “What makes you think I did anything?”

Aieyla just shook her head, gesturing for him to get into the house, and shutting the door behind them.

Few saw the Herald again until the next afternoon, when she suddenly appeared in the tavern and seemed dead set on getting piss drunk.

Aieyla came to find Higgins when he woke from a nap, having served First Watch that morning. “We lost scouts, in the Storm Coast,” she told him as she drew him out the C-Block into a meandering walk around the army encampment. “She found their bodies. People she knew, people she’d not known, it didn’t matter. She feels like she failed them. And then she came home to Haven, and things between you and her had always helped ground her. And now… Now she is adrift.”

“I’m sorry,” Higgins said, a bit defensively. “ But _I_  didn't say anything to her about it! I can't control Killeen's fat mouth and I can’t help how I feel. She fought through all those men, through a swamp full of undead, to save me and three other soldiers. Nobodies. She…”

“Saved your life, whatever, I get it,” Aieyla cut him off. “She’s flesh and blood, Higgins.”

“So was Andraste.”

Aieyla wheeled on him, cuffing him in the jaw before he thought to defend himself from her. His cheek was cut on his teeth, and he had to spit out a sudden mouthful of blood. “What the-“

“Do you remember the first day she was in Haven, when she finally awoke after sealing the rifts? When you were the only person who thought to ask her name? When you _shamed_ me for believing she was anything other than a person?”

“Maybe I was wrong,” Higgins stammered, although as the words left his mouth he knew he didn’t believe them.

“Maybe seeing her drown her sorrows alone at the tavern would help remind you,” she hissed, and turned on her heel to stalk away.

Higgins dropped his chin to his chest. If she had meant to shame him, she had succeeded.

He slogged back to C-12 to fetch Glennon. “Going to the tavern,” he said, extending a hand to help Glennon off the ground where he sat writing a letter in the brilliant sunlight. “Need backup.”

Glennon ducked into the tent to put away his papers and carefully cared for the quill before indicating he would follow Higgins. “Backup for what?”

“Apologizing to the Herald,” Higgins replied.

Glennon grunted his understanding and fell silently into step behind Higgins.

The Herald was sitting at the bar when they arrived – and, surprisingly, the Commander was with her.

Glennon and Higgins nodded to Flissa and took seats at the other end of the bar. The place was largely empty, and Evelyn had made such a show of owing the Commander drinks that no one who came in looked at them twice, but to smile and nod and go on their way.

“You!” the newest member of the Herald’s inner circle, a violently unpredictable elf named Sera, hissed when she recognized Higgins. Cullen glanced up at her and she waved from her table, waiting until the Commander turned his attention back to Evelyn before standing and crossing them room to them.

“Hauls your dead ass out of the swamp, single handedly saves your life, and you can’t be her friend anymore?”

“Have we… met?” Higgins asked, uncertainly, looking to Glennon for support. Glennon put his hands up defensively and quickly leaned away, shaking his head, _no_.

“Ev pointed ya out to me, wot? I know who you are. Right piece of work, you are.”

“Look, I don’t exactly know why you’re mad at me, but I’m just waiting my turn to speak to the… to Evelyn. I owe her apology, okay?"

Sera drew back, surprised. “You what?”

“She… she asked me to help her. Asked me to treat her like she was just another person. That’s not too much to ask, is it? I don’t even have to believe it, not really. Just honor the request. She saved my life. If it makes her feel better for me to call her _ser_ and tell her jokes, isn’t that the very least I can do?”

“Oh.” Sera rocked back on her heels. “Well, yeah. Who knocked the sense back inna ya?”

“Aieyla,” Higgins said, letting the sour note in his voice be noticeable.

“Ha! Least elfy elf here, knew it when I saw her,” Sera said, kicking back a stool and taking a seat on the other side of Glennon from Higgins. “One of what she’s having!” she called to Flissa, pointing to Evelyn. Flissa nodded, but Evelyn didn’t even seem to notice. She and the Commander had their heads tilted close, having a serious discussion about something or the other. Evelyn was studying her hand, and Cullen looked like he was doing his damndest to suppress a surge of panic.

As Flissa dropped the glass in front of Sera, Evelyn suddenly sat up and laughed, pushing Cullen away with a companionable hand to the shoulder. The look on his face…

“Uh oh,” Glennon and Higgins said simultaneously.

“What? What’d I miss?” Sera asked, dropping the cordial back to the bar.

Higgins nodded at the Commander, and Sera looked over just after he swept his expression clear.

“Bah, same as it has been. What’re you goin’ on about?”

“Commander Cullen is holding a torch for Trevelyan,” Glennon summarized succinctly.

“Yeah?” Sera craned her head to get a better look.

“Yeah,” Higgins agreed. “You just missed it. Evelyn looked away and the Commander let his guard slip and it was… _painted_ all over the poor bastard’s face.”

“Unmistakable,” Glennon concurred, nodding.

“Huh. Well, good then. We’ll knock the dust outta her ladybits and keep her grounded all in one go. Hard to forget yer people when yer gettin’ yer muff dived.”

Higgins choked a laugh as Glennon buried his head in his arms on the bar to keep from reacting.

“What?” Sera asked, trying to plaster an innocent smile across a very guilty grin. “You don’t think she’s got ladybits?”

“I think she would protest them being called _dusty_ ,” Higgins argued, still laughing.

“Yeah?” Sera said, cocking an eyebrow. “What is it you know about her ladyship’s holy ladybits?”

The question sobered him, quickly. “Don’t know as it’s my place to share things she's told me in confidence.”

Glennon shot him a curious look, but didn’t ask. Sera had no such reservations. “Look, I can’t help her if I don’t know. And maybe sometime there’ll be something _you_ need to know, wot? And then I’ll help you and we’ll be Friends.”

There was something about the way she said _Friends_ that implied something far deeper than mere camaraderie. Higgins tried to get a read off her and failed miserably. With a sigh, he capitulated.

“She must trust you, to bring you here, right? Look, I don’t think anybody else knows this, so she’ll immediately know it came from me. She’d never forgive me, and since that’s sort of why I’m sitting here….”

A laugh from the end of the bar brought their eyes back to Cullen and Evelyn. She was telling a story, speaking as much with her hands as her mouth, and Cullen was shaking his head in blatant disbelief. The laugh, however, was rich and unguarded; something none of them had heard from the Commander before. There was that _something_ in his eyes as he listened to her talk that got Sera nodding. “Mmmm. Mm hmm. I see whatcha mean.”

She turned back to Higgins. “Not one word from me.”

“Remember when she took me up to the site of the old logging stand?” he asked Glennon, who immediately nodded. “We chatted, on the way up. She wanted to know if anyone else had survived the Conclave. I had to tell her no, had to tell her she was the only survivor. She asked who I knew who had died, and I told her about Mallory.”

Glennon paled a bit at the name. He and Higgins had shied away from ever talking about the rest of their delegation.

“I asked her who she’d lost, and she told me… her brother. And her _friend_ but it was pretty clear that she meant more than _friend_ when she said it. She said _everybody she had ever loved was dead_.”

Sera grunted. “I bet we could pump the un-elfy elf for more. Aieyla, whatsit? She’d know.”

Higgins echoed the sound. “You can try.”

“Sera, did you set me up?” the Herald’s voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. Cullen’s furred pauldrons were disappearing out the door and Evelyn had come over to talk to her friend. Higgins realized they all looked very guilty as they suddenly sat up out of their secretive conversation. Evelyn recognized Higgins and Glennon and fell silent.

Higgins slid off the barstool and quickly passed around Glennon and Sera to stand near Evelyn, taking up her hand on the back of his. “I wanted to apologize,” he said “If the task you’ve set to me is to help you feel normal, to help you find your place and fit in, I would be a damn fool to refuse.”

Evelyn smiled a bit tentatively at him. “Who bullied you? Was it Sera? Or Aieyla?”

“Both,” Glennon called softly.

Her smile widened as Higgins pressed on. “I did need a punch to the head to realize I was being stupid. I won’t be repaying your _saving my damn life_ by making you feel more isolated than you already do.”

Evelyn pulled her hand off his clenched knuckles and threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to hug him.

“Thank you,” she said next to his ear. She carried the lingering aroma of honey, but her skin smelled of smoke and beeswax. She weighed almost nothing in his arms, and Higgins was careful not to pinch anything with his heavy vambraces as he gently returned the hug.

“I found myself in desperate need of friendship today,” she said as she slid back to the floor and took a step back. “I even coerced the Commander into agreeing to be my friend, somehow. Where I started out a pauper I now have a gracious plenty.”

Glennon snorted at the Commander _agreeing_ to be her _friend_ , having seen the look in the man’s eyes for himself, but neither Higgins nor Sera responded and Evelyn ignored it in kind.

Sera scooted a stool over and gestured for Evelyn to sit between her and Glennon, as Higgins moved around to retake his spot on the end. Flissa refilled Sera and Evelyn’s glasses, offering (and being declined) the same for the two soldiers..

“Not drinking? Are you on First this morning?” Evelyn asked as they nursed half-empty steins.

Glennon shook his head. “Had First today. Second tomorrow. Long day, won’t need the beer to sleep tonight.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed easily. “But they haven’t even rang Third Bell yet. You’ve got plenty of time to work it off.”

“You buyin’?” Sera asked.

Evelyn grinned happily. “Absolutely. Flissa, set these men up with two more.”


	15. Hero in Every Port

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paraded through Kirkwall as hero and winner!  
> Nuggins, Nuggins! Stubborn and vicious!  
> Tripped up a viscount, now he's for dinner!  
> Nuggins, Nuggins! Of course he's delicious!

Higgins stumbled into Haven in the morning, exhausted, unshaven and with eyes deeply bloodshot. Shaving was not a requirement in the Inquisition army, of course, but Higgins was the type who liked to stay neat.

“Andraste’s ass, man, what happened to you?” Brown asked as Higgins accepted a bowl of hot fruit and oats from the mess line.

“The Herald happened to him,” Glennon replied with a smirk. He’d managed to beggar off early, while Higgins had closed the tavern down with Evelyn, Sera, Varric, Bull, and fully half the Chargers. “You’ll have to ask Killeen. They had Fourth last night. She’s the one who put him to bed.”

Brown’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You still drunk, Higgins?”

Higgins shook his head. “Not at all ser. I wish I was, ser. I’d likely feel better, ser.”

“Here,” a voice called from the other side of the fire. Evelyn was just appearing from Aieyla’s hut, steaming mug in her hand. “Vivienne made this for me, said our singing kept her up last night and she wasn’t about to let me out of our meeting this morning. You need it more than me, take it.”

Higgins sniffed the steam suspiciously. “This smells like nug piss,” he enunciated carefully.

Evelyn laughed. “She wouldn’t tell me what was in it. But she said if you can keep it down, it’ll cure your hangover. If you can’t… well, that will help, too.”

“Fair enough,” Higgins said, and downed the contents in one long pull.

“See, it’s shit like that what got you into this mess,” Glennon laughed.

Higgins shuddered violently. “Andraste’s ashes, that tasted… _tastes_ … dear Maker, I can still taste it. It’s like it stained my tongue.”

Evelyn scrunched her nose as Brown and the rest of the soldiers milling around the breakfast line laughed. “That bad?”

Higgins leaned over and put his hands on his knees and concentrated on breathing.

“He should be better shortly,” Evelyn said to Lieutenant Brown as she turned to go. “I have council this morning, but this afternoon either the Commander or I will be coming around with news and plans.”

“I’ll be near the Commander once he’s out of council,” Brown informed her, and with a wave to Glennon and a few of the other soldiers standing near the kitchen fire, she headed for the Chantry and her meeting with Vivienne.

“Singing?” Brown asked the still-suffering Higgins.

“Teaching the Herald more Fereldan songs,” Glennon answered for him.

“If you could see the way she laughed at the _Ballad of Nuggins_ you would have done the same, Lieutenant,” Higgins gasped, slowly starting to straighten up. “She ended up in a ball under the table, a weeping mess from laughing so hard. Near to wrecked Varric’s shirt when he pulled her off the floor and she rubbed her face on his sleeve.”

“That’s not what had her laughing,” Glennon corrected happily.

“No?” Higgins coughed, immediately regretting the action and holding his breath to keep from vomiting.

“No, it was Sera fumbling the words and saying _Higgins, Higgins! Of course he’s delicious!_ at the end. Evelyn kept calling you Nuggins and then shooting liquor out of her nose.”

“I have… no recollection of that,” Higgins admitted.

“I assure you Krem does. He asked me how Nuggins was doing when I crossed paths with him this morning.”

“Just. Fucking. Great.” Higgins gritted. He was standing upright now, shifting his shoulders a bit, moving around experimentally.

“Hey…” he flexed his neck. “Hey, I don’t feel half bad.”

Brown and Glennon stared at him. Glennon blinked twice. “No way.”

“Make that twice the Lady Vivienne has had a cure for what ailed me,” Higgins said a bit smugly.

“Nuggins!” Krem called gleefully from the gate, and whatever self-respect Higgins had garnered from Vivienne’s hangover remedy was lost in the gales of laughter from his compatriots.

 

*

 

Evelyn came out of the council meeting that afternoon like an arrow.

“Brown!” she barked, nearly tumbling down the hill in her haste.

“Yes, Your Worship?” he asked, banging his fist to his breastplate.

“Have you seen Cullen?”

“No, my-“

“We’re approaching the templars. I’m leaving at first light tomorrow. Therinfall Redoubt. Be prepared for me to bring back a small army. You’ll need to grid out new campsites and have someplace in mind for their encampment.” She spit the words out quickly, stumbling over them in her haste to say as much as she could.

Before Brown could answer, his name was being barked again, from Commander Cullen as he came out of the Chantry doors.

Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.

Brown trotted up the hill to report to his Commander. “Ser?”

“The council has decided the course of action for the Breach.”

“Yes, ser. The templars, sir?”

“The- yes. Actually.”

“The Herald will leave tomorrow, ser, at first light?”

“She’ll- yes. We’ll need to prepare for their arrival.”

“Therinfall. Will be minimum of one week before the Herald returns. Possibly more, if the templars are not ready to march.”

“Right... So we’ll need-“

“Enough space for a small army, ser. Killeen and I will grid out new campsites. Perhaps the other side of the lake for their encampment? It would give them some distance from the regulars, keep them from being overwhelmed at the same time limiting any …philosophical differences.”

Cullen was staring at him in utter bafflement. “Maker’s breath, man, I knew you were good, but this is ridiculous. Were you spying on the council meeting?”

Evelyn seemed to fall out of the air next to Brown, stumbling into the Lieutenant’s arms as she roared with laughter. Brown caught her and the two leaned against one another for several heartbeats, laughing at the Commander’s discomfiture.

For his part, Cullen managed to look more amused than annoyed.

Evelyn pulled herself together. “On your way, soldier,” she dismissed Brown, who smartly saluted them both before beating a hasty retreat.

“I won’t forget this, Lieutenant,” the Commander’s voice hovered menacingly in the air behind him.

Brown couldn’t hear the Commander’s next words to the Herald, as they were a low-pitched growl, but her ringing laughter convinced him of her continued safety.

“You are welcome to _try,_ my friend,” he heard her say, and he grinned to himself as he returned to his post. Higgins and Glennon had told him over the course of their shift of their suspicions about the Commander’s affections, and nothing he had seen today disproved their theory.

 

*

 

Higgins and Glennon spent much of the time Evelyn was away working. Brown enlisted them to help him lay out gridlines and prepare the far side of the lake for an influx of templars. Their spare free time was spent in the tavern, harrassing Maryden for new songs to introduce the Herald to when she returned.

“You weren’t _here_ , you didn’t _see_ ,” Higgins cajoled her. “If you had any idea how much she _loves_ it…”

“I’m not saying I don’t _want_ to help you,” Maryden answered evenly, not for the first time. “I just don’t have anything to offer Her Worship.”

“Nothing?” Glennon wheedled. “Nothing at _all_?”

“Well,” she dragged the word out, glancing over her shoulder. “I have been working on something, but…”

Higgins and Glennon simultaneously grabbed chairs and slid as close to her as possible.

“No, no, it’s not ready yet,” she said, waving them off.

“Give us a rough draft,” Glennon whispered loudly.

Maryden risked another glance around the room before pulling out her lute.

_She would always like to say,_

_“Why change the past, when you can own this day?”_

_Today she will fight to keep her way._

_She’s a rogue and a thief and she’ll tempt your fate._

“That’s… all so far. I’ve got the rest of it in my head, but it’s a matter of putting the words together right.”

“I’ve never heard the Herald say that,” Higgins said with a confused tilt to his head.

Glennon slugged him in the shoulder. “It’s not _about_ the Herald, now, is it?”

Maryden blushed. “It’s not finished, so it’s not about _anyone_. Now be on your way before I tell Flissa you’re bothering me.”

They cleared out quickly, but not before Glennon threw a supportive arm around Maryden’s shoulders. “Even if she doesn’t like it, don’t stop writing. Don’t stop singing. You’ve got a gift, Maryden.”

Higgins dragged him out of the tavern. “Sera? You think she’s singing of Sera?”

Glennon strode quickly away from prying eyes and ears. “I know she is. You should see the way Maryden watches her. Even if its only for the song, it’s plain she’s fascinated by her.”

“So if she’s into Sera, what was the point of your overly friendly gesture there at the end?”

Glennon rolled his eyes. “Who else goes into the tavern to talk to Maryden, besides us?”

Higgins opened his mouth to answer, thought better of it, and was silent the rest of the walk back to the encampment.

“Maker’s balls,” he breathed as they arrived at their little corner of Heaven at C-12. “Poor lonely git.”

“Girl needs some encouragement. And nothing I said wasn’t true,” Glennon added a bit defensively.

“We should tell the Herald, when she gets back,” Higgins said thoughtfully, lowering himself onto his cot and tenting his fingers behind his head. “She loves all the songs she’s dug up; she’d likely sit and listen to Maryden for hours if she got half a chance. Would be good for both of them.”

Glennon nodded absently.

The Herald, when she returned at the head of a long column of templars, needed a lot more than a song.


	16. Above the Sky Lies Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boys help Evelyn cope after Therinfall and preparations are made for the post-Breach Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric gives our protagonists their nicknames.

When Evelyn rode in at the head of a long column of templars, she didn’t stop at the gates to speak to Higgins, although he, Glennon and Brown were sitting at the fire to welcome her home. She didn’t come to the fire at all the night she got home, nor did anyone see her again once she slipped inside the Chantry.

Killeen came to find them in C-block that night; Jenson had transferred to Brown’s unit after returning from the Fallow Mire and was sitting with Higgins, Glennon, and their Lieutenant around their communal fire. Brown’s company was just coming in off Watch as the Fourth Bell rang midnight. It was Killeen’s turn for Third Watch the next day, but she stayed up to touch base with her friends.

“She’s praying,” she said with no preamble as she dropped to the ground next to the fire between Brown and Jenson.

“What? All day?” Glennon asked, sitting up.

“All bloody day,” Killeen confirmed. “Stayed until Mother Giselle was openly weeping and exhausted and Aieyla came to gather her up. She’s sleeping in the hut with Aieyla tonight, Mahvrin’s sleeping in her tent.”

“Maker,” Higgins breathed. “None of the templars are talking about it, either, and they look _rough_. Like something horrible happened. And where’s the Seekers? Isn’t High Seeker Whatshisface supposed to be with them?”

“Dead,” a new voice entered the conversation. Killeen was on her feet with a hand on her sword hilt before Varric’s form came into the firelight. Brown waved for her to sit back down.

“Lord Seeker Lucius is dead?” Brown asked, aghast.

Varric nodded, dropping wearily to the ground between Higgins and Glennon. “As is every Knight-Captain currently accounted for, as well. Some that stayed in cities and circles might be alive, but right now Knight-Templar Delrin Barris is the nominal head of the Order.”

“Maker’s breath, what happened?” Jenson whispered.

Varric shook his head. “The rumors can’t start with me. I’m not here to tell you what horror story we walked into. I’m here because Trevelyan slipped out of Aieyla’s hut – probably as soon as Aieyla was asleep – and vanished. She was headed this way, but I lost her. I came to find Higgins and Glennon… she’s not going to want to talk to me. Not tonight.”

Jenson quickly jumped to her feet. “I can help-“

Varric waved her back down. “Of course you could. And Killer there would be a great help, too. So would Brownie. But Nuggins and Meatshield have a way of opening her up that nobody else has mastered yet. I’ve got Buttercup out looking for her, but she’s just there to help you find her. I need you to bring her in.”

Higgins and Glennon quickly stood.

They didn’t need Sera’s help. If Sera ever found Evelyn – or saw them looking for her – they never knew. It wasn’t important, in the end. Evelyn was sitting on an outcropping they could see from the gap in the trees at C-12, where they went to quickly scan the terrain. 

“There,” Higgins breathed, pointing. Glennon nodded, and they set off down the embankment and cut across the frozen lake.

“She’ll see us coming,” Glennon said conversationally, his voice pitched low.

“Good,” Higgins answered. “If she really doesn’t want company, she shouldn’t have it forced on her.”

She sat still, watching their approach. When they reached the outcrop where she sat, she scooted a bit to one side, making space for them to sit on either side of her. Their armor rattled as they settled onto the icy rock, and then silence reigned. As Higgins was contemplating what to say, Evelyn tipped her head back and started to sing.

_Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey._

_A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay_.

Higgins flinched visibly as he recognized what she was singing. Glennon seemed entranced by her voice, untrained but sweet.

_There was a stir within his blood and the dreams lay thick upon him._

_A call did beat within his heart. One road was left before him_.

She was watching the Breach as she sang, the green lightning swirling across a perpetually overcast sky.

_See how the rain has washed away the tears that you were crying?_

_Though the darkness calls me down you know we all are dying_.

The song was supposedly sung by Wardens. It had been spread through Fereldan during the Blight when hope seemed lost and the dead threatened to outnumber the living. Somehow, Higgins knew she wasn’t thinking about the Wardens as she sang.

_And so he came upon the place where so many tred before._

_One last look upon the world before he closed that final door_.

Glennon, perhaps remembering his exchange with Maryden a few days before, slung a arm gently over Evelyn’s shoulders as she sang. She tipped her head to his shoulder, but continued her song. Emboldened, Higgins slid a hand under hers and she wrapped her fingers tightly around his gauntlet. A bit belatedly, he realized it was her left hand, and a sinister green glow reflected off the polished metal.

Glennon sounded like a frog being stepped on when he sang, so he stayed silent as Higgins joined Evelyn in the final verses.

_Birds reel across the endless sky, about a house upon the plain._

_In memory she sings to him of a time before the rain._

_Sweet Andraste, hear our song, for his road will be ours too._

_Before the darkness claims our souls let us see that shred of blue._

_Hear the rain upon the leaves, above the sky lies grey._

_A shred of blue would be denied. Alas, he could not stay_.

 

The echo of their voices slowly died out over the lake. Higgins suspected they were heard in the camp, as the night was too quiet, even for the late hour.

“What are you wearing?” Glennon asked suddenly. Evelyn lifted her head off his shoulder to stare at him.

“…because my ass is frozen,” Glennon continued when she didn’t answer. “And if you’ve got something on that lets you sit here without losing feeling in your legs, then you need to share. Fuck, its cold.”

It surprised her, which was enough to break the spell and draw a laugh from her. It was weak and gone quickly, but it was enough.

“Actually, that’s why I’m still here,” she said lightly. “My legs are asleep from butt-crack to toe-nails.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Higgins told her, releasing her hand and standing up. “Our Lady Travelyan’s personal chariot.”

Glennon stood as well, and the two of them bent and lifted her easily in her arms.

“I don’t know why we keep doing this,” Higgins said conversationally to Glennon, their faces mere inches from Evelyn’s now-smiling visage. “She weighs nothing. Either one of us could pull this off on our own.”

“You know, you’re right. Didn’t Varric bring her all the way down from the top of the mountain by himself? I bet I can carry her a hundred paces without breaking a sweat.”

As Evelyn started shaking her head, laughing a protest, Higgins let go and stepped away from them. In one easy motion, Glennon swung her across his body to land face-down over his shoulder.

“No!” she laughed, but she was smiling broadly now, and her protest was ignored.

“One hundred paces,” Higgins said, “Starting now.”

As Glennon counted his paces out loud and Evelyn laughed helplessly on his back, Higgins waved off anyone who appeared to investigate the ruckus. Most saw the Fereldan “brothers” and quickly went back to bed, knowing only mischief and no real trouble was afoot. A few took note of the laughing form hanging over Glennon’s shoulder, but if any recognized the Herald they never spoke of it.

“Ninety Nine! One Hundred! Check it,” Glennon stopped and turned to Higgins.

Higgins made a show of assessing Glennon’s face and back. “Nope, no sweat. Well done. I’ll bet I can do twice that.”

Glennon scoffed. “Bullshit. Even in this cold, you’ll be dripping buckets in under fifty. You can’t even carry a shield.”

“You’re on,” Higgins agreed, and Glennon lightly tossed the Herald to him.

She made a squeak mid-air, but was laughing harder than before as Higgins set off into the night, counting off his steps as Glennon took over waving off prying eyes. They traded off the weakly protesting Evelyn twice more before arriving back at Aieyla’s hut. The Herald’s Personal Assistant, as Glennon had named her, was waiting at the door, a worried frown on her face. She broke into a wide smile when she recognized Higgins and the feet weakly kicking against his chest.

“We found something in the woods, my lady,” Glennon said softly as they approached the rectangle of light framing Aieyla’s slight form. “We believe it may be of some worth to you, so we thought to return it post haste.”

Aieyla dropped an elaborate curtsey. “Why, thank you, sirrah. It is, indeed, quite valuable. I have no way to repay you.”

Higgins bent slightly and set Evelyn’s feet on the doorstep, taking a step back to turn the movement into a bow. “We live only to serve, my lady,” he intoned.

For their trouble, they each got a light punch to the breastplate from Evelyn before she disappeared into the hut.

“Thank you,” Aieyla breathed, and shut the door soundlessly.

Glennon and Higgins exchanged smug nods and hiked back to C-12 in silence.

 

*

 

The templars seemed to have recovered their wits by the next day, and as preparations were made to attack the Breach, the guard rotation was violently juggled.

“This is Knight-Lieutenant Eamon,” Cullen introduced a red-haired, freckled young man to his assembled Lieutenants. He bore a ragged scar across nearly the center of his face, creating a deep cleft in his nose and chin. He was as tall and slender as Lieutenant Brown, and he eagerly clasped hands with the Inquisition officers. “And this is Knight-Lieutenant Delrin Barris,” he gestured to a man with the Commander’s height and Brown’s coloring. Delrin had an easy smile and haunted eyes.

“Knight-Templar,” Delrin corrected Cullen.

“Knight- _Lieutenant_ and you’re lucky I don’t call it Captain and claim every last second of your time, Delrin,” Cullen answered.

Delrin nodded. With the destruction of the templar leadership, Cassandra and Cullen were the closest things to commanding officers Delrin had left.

“We’re going to integrate the templars into the Inquisition, _partially_ ,” Cullen said after rattling off the names of his six Lieutenants: Brown, Killeen, Rylen, Tamson, Hendricks, and Chambreterre (who unconsciously corrected him, “Just Roz”).

“Rather than try to dismantle known units, we’re going to place two templar companies into the guard rotation. We’re going to have to shuffle our own companies somewhat-“

“I’m keeping Higgins and Glennon,” Brown interrupted.

“Fuck you,” Killeen sighed.

“Yeah, seriously, Brown, _fuck you_ ,” Rylen agreed with Killeen.

Eamon and Delrin looked askance at Cullen. “If you haven’t met them yet, you’re sure to. A pair of men-at-arms from Highever who were stranded here when the Conclave was destroyed, and immediately stepped up. If there was a way to promote them without splitting them up, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“Don’t you dare,” Brown muttered, which drew laughs from Cullen and Killeen.

“We’re going to shuffle our own companies somewhat,” Cullen continued, “which will cause a reorganization in you six, as well. Roz, you’re welcome to continue your duties if you are content with them. I will need three of you to stay in the guard rotation and handle the majority of the Inquisition forces. The remaining two will be shifted gradually into roles more similar to Roz’s. As it stands, Roz will continue to handle troop rotations through Ferelden. As our interests shift into Orlais, which is inevitable now that we are receiving reports of rifts throughout the Dales and into the desert in the west, I will need one of you to focus on adequate deployment and rotation of forces there. The last position will be of a more dangerous nature, to personally lead strike forces and targeted missions through the Inquisition’s operating area.

“Discuss amongst yourselves, if you like, or if you feel particularly strongly about an assignment, I will hear it.”

“I’m keeping Higgins and Glennon,” Brown said again, amidst another round of groans and profanity. “No, listen. I’m keeping Higgins and Glennon which means I’m staying here. We all know they need to stay together and _in Haven_ , they do too much good here to risk them abroad. So I volunteer for permanent guard duty.”

That left the rest of them speechless.

“Is it a safe assumption you would like to make the same request, Killeen?” Cullen asked archly.

Killeen flushed scarlet. “Oh, fuck _you_ , Rutherford. Yes. Yes I would like to stay in Haven.”

Cullen chuckled darkly. “Fair enough. Any other requests?”

“I would like to take the strike team, ser,” Rylen said, to nobody’s surprise.

“Tamson?”

“I’ll go wherever you stick me, ser.”

“Hendricks?”

“The chances of getting the strike team away from Rylen are about zero, since we all know damn well he’s perfect for it,” Hendricks admitted. “But I’d rather not be stuck permanently in Haven. I’m Fereldan, though… maybe Roz and I could switch? She handles Orlesian deployments and I’ll take the Fereldan ones?”

Roz nodded readily. “That sounds more than fair.”

“So, Tamson, you’ll take the third company that stays in Haven?”

Tamson nodded.

“Alright, that was easier than I hoped. The company strictly for recruits will have to be eliminated, with each of the three guard units absorbing the training duties. The Iron Bull has offered multiple times to help weed through recruits, so he and the Chargers should be utilized as much as possible.

“Killeen, Brown, and Tamson. Expect your forces to be rotational, with individuals leaving on rotations with Hendricks and Roz and gradually circulating back.” The three Lieutenants he named nodded. “We’ll sit down and decide the actual shift of soldiery from six units down to three. Killeen, your company will reside in A- and B-blocks. Brown’s company will take C- and D-blocks, leaving E- and F- for Tamson. Delrin, your troops are divided into H- and G-blocks, correct?”

“Yes, ser,” Delrin answered. “I’ve taken G and Eamon has H.”

“Good. If there are no other concerns, I would like to meet with each of you individually to discuss new duties and duty rosters. For the time being, the templars will recover from …their ordeal… and prepare to assist the Herald in closing the Breach; Inquisition forces will continue with the guard schedule as written until such time as the Breach is closed. We have until then to iron out our compromises.”

Nods all around, and Cullen dismissed everyone but Hendricks and Rylen.

“Oh, and Brown?” he called as they turned to leave.

“Yes, Commander?”

“You can keep Higgins and Glennon.”

Brown saluted with a broad grin and followed the others out of the tent.

“Seriously, man, _fuck you_ ,” Killeen was clearly heard outside, bringing another smile to Cullen’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before In Your Heart Shall Burn.  
> Gird your loins, children. I sobbed when I wrote about Haven this time around.


	17. In Your Heart Shall Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the Destruction of Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, I seriously sat at my computer and sobbed.  
> I'm so sorry. It had to be done.

The news cycled down through the ranks quickly. The reshuffling of the companies didn’t bother most; Rylen and Hendricks would be missed, but larger companies meant individual responsibilities shrank – for everyone but the Lieutenants, at least. What got the soldiery fired up was the physical moving of companies; some campsites were more desirable then others, and the ability to hold onto or get away from different patches of real estate was a bigger consideration than who ones Lieutenant was.

Glennon got to Brown before Higgins did. “Relax,” Brown laughed before the question could be asked. “You and Higgins are staying with me, I’m staying in C-Block, and you’re staying in C-12. Alright?”

The tension visibly faded from Glennon’s shoulders. “Yes, ser.”

“Do me a favor and find Higgins and tell him the same.”

Glennon saluted and disappeared. Brown knew when the two men found each other by the sudden whooping cheer that rose up from the direction of C-12. A few moments later, the gloating call of “Suck it, Ringwold!” followed, and Brown stumbled a step from laughter.

There was a request box under an overhang beside each Lieutenant’s tent with a stack of papers and a charcoal stick so individuals could leave their names as a request to stay in or leave a company. Cullen was keeping an eye on the relative fullness of each box, and was pleased that all three Lieutenants seemed equally sought after. An overwhelming preference for one or against another would indicate some discrepancy in fairness, which would not serve in the Inquisition rank and file.

The sealing of the Breach was set for a mere three days after the templars arrived, the only delay being in the arrival of adequate quantities of lyrium for the undertaking. Seeker Cassandra immediately took over command of the lyrium supplies, with Delrin being named her second.

The Herald was almost completely absent during the preparations. The rumors were starting to circulate about what had happened at Therinfall Redoubt: Lord Seeker Lucius impersonated by an envy demon, the real Lord Seeker gone missing, templar officers turned into red lyrium abominations, and the forboding references to _the Elder One_. There were other whispers around the camp, of a figure half-seen and imperfectly remembered, the young man who helped save the Herald from Envy. He was considered by many to be a hoax, a ghost story; surely the Herald needed no one but herself to fight off one demon, no matter how powerful.

Every man, woman, and child in Haven was awake and staring at the Breach when Evelyn took Seeker Cassandra, Solas, and the 200 most powerful templars up to the Temple with her. They met with little resistance, as Evelyn had long since closed the rifts on the mountain. In less time than anyone would have imagined after the battalion had started the hike up, the Breach seemed to shrink in on itself, the lightning flashes become more and more infrequent until they stopped altogether. Then a stream of green fire shot up from underneath the Breach, lighting up the swirling cloud until it burst in a spray of pure white.

Once their eyes adjusted back from the light blindness, the denizens of Haven could see the Breach was gone. There was a weird shift to the sky there, like a scar or a twisted memory, but the mass of swirling energies had vanished. The cheer that went up was second only the cheer an hour later, when Evelyn returned at the head of the column, descending the mountain under her own power for the first time.

She held her arm like it was broken, and Vivienne rushed to her side and worked at the shoulder until Evelyn nodded her thanks and rotated the arm experimentally a few times. But then she was lost in the press of the jubilant Inquisition, passed along through the crowd until everyone had a chance to touch her, to thank her, to whisper her name as she brushed by.

Higgins kept an eye on her as she was overwhelmed by the crowd, and when she finally passed close to an edge, he reached in and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the swirling current of people. She was startled, but when she recognized who had her, she latched onto his arm like a woman drowning, and let him lead her to the top of the hill by the Chantry doors.

Cassandra was waiting there for Evelyn, and had a slight smile for Higgins as he broke free of the Herald’s clasp and went to rejoin the fray. “Excuse me, sers, but there is beer to be drank.”

The exhaustion was plain on Evelyn’s face, but her laugh was sincere as she waved his dismissal.

“Good man, that,” he heard the Seeker say as he departed, and he felt his heart swell in pride.

He found Glennon in the quickly growing party, standing near to the main fire and helping Flissa control the broaching of kegs.

“Something’s not right,” he grunted to Higgins as they drew together.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re all here. I mean, all of us. Who’s out on patrol? Who’s guarding the roads? We were on until Second Bell, Hendricks’ company should be on now, but I’ve seen just about all of them pass by here in the last ten minutes. Hendricks is up by the tavern in a press of people who can’t possibly be keeping track of what’s going on.”

“I suppose it was to be expected,” Higgins allowed, although he immediately decided to join Glennon in refraining from drink, “given the Breach is finally gone. People feel safe for the first time in months.”

A scout, then – one of Leliana’s lower ranking recruits – burst through the gates then. “Commander!” she cried, falling to her knees at his feet. “Commander, an army, a _horde_ , appears over the mountains!”

“What?” Cullen raced to the gates to look out for himself, before turning and calling for the bells to be rang. “A force is approaching! To arms!”

Dread settled into the pit of Higgin’s stomach as Glennon unslung his shield from his back and they both drew their swords. Fully half the soldiers around the fire were unarmed, and would stay so: the gates were ponderously swinging shut, locking the encampment – and their weaponry – on the other side.

Harritt called for men at the smithy, and crates of swords and shields were dragged out of storage. “Preparing for an influx of new recruits when the Breach closed,” he said as the weapons were quickly passed around. “Not enough, not near enough, but a damn spot better than nothing.”

Fire suddenly hit the gates, pushing them inward, and Higgins rushed forward to help fortify them if need be. He saw Glennon out of the corner of his eye taking the same action on the other half of the doors.

“If someone could open this, I would appreciate it,” a man’s voice called from outside.

“Open it!” Evelyn cried, suddenly at Higgin’s side. He and Glennon slid the bar up just enough to crack the heavy doors for Evelyn to slip through, surprised when the Commander darted out right after her.

“Dorian!” she breathed, dropping to her knees at the newcomer’s side. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to warn you,” came the reply, and Higgins looked through the gap he was maintaining to see a dark-haired, waxed-moustached Tevinter kneeling battered upon the ground. The Tevinter – Dorian, apparently – rattled off what he knew about the incoming army. It was a mix of Tevinter cultists calling themselves Venatori and the rebel mages from Redcliffe. Higgins had never been so glad to be standing in the middle of an army of templars… fighting mages without them would have been a bloodbath.

“HENDRICKS!” Cullen called, and the Lieutenant staggered out of the crush of bodies. “Your men are supposed to be on duty. Are any of them sober enough to fight?”

The immediate flush on Hendricks’ face was enough answer for Cullen.

“For the love of… Templars! You must engage the incoming mages! If you have lyrium, _now is the time to take it_. Soldiers! Any of you sober enough to defend yourselves, to the front! The rest – gather the villagers! Fortify and watch for advance forces!”

Cullen glanced down the ranks, painfully disappointed with the number of men available to fight. “Inquisition!” he roared. “ _With the Herald! For your lives! FOR ALL OF US!_ ”

Evelyn was racing against the tide of soldiers, then, fighting to secure the trebuchets against the sudden influx of mages and red lyrium abominations over the stockade wall. Higgins and Glennon worked to aim and load the machine while Cassandra kept the opponent distracted and Evelyn shredded anything that came near. The steady thump of Varric’s crossbow and Solas’ voice calling out targets played harmony to the screams and explosions of the battle against the Venatori.

“The other trebuchet hasn’t fired yet!” Killeen called to Evelyn. The Herald double checked that there was a team in place to defend the weapon she’d just secured.

“Go!” Glennon called. “We got this!”

“Cass! With me!” Evelyn called, and her team raced along the wall to the other trebuchet.

Higgins stood hard on Glennon’s left, allowing his shield-brother to protect his flank while he concentrated on killing anything that came near. This was harder than defending against the demons at the Breach; their swords sunk into flesh rather than demonic plasma, the death cries of their adversaries were the names of their loved ones or their gods and not inhuman shrieks.

The other trebuchet fired, after what could have been a lifetime of death, and the first load brought half a mountain down on the incoming forces. Higgins raised his hands up in a cheer.

He turned to Glennon, who was standing on the trebuchet platform, having just run up to help aim the machine at the mountains like the other, to use the landscape against the enemy, when the dragon dropped from the overcast sky and spit fire onto the trebuchet.

He was looking in Glennon’s eyes when the fire overtook him.

He couldn’t look away as Glennon’s smile melted into horror, his body suddenly thrown into the air.

Higgins was knocked backwards, sent tumbling. He fought back to his feet and raced to Glennon’s side, ignoing the smouldering shrapnel peppering Glennon’s charred back, rolled his friend over, put fingers to his throat to find a pulse.

Glennon’s sightless eyes were all the confirmation Higgins needed.

He pulled the shield from Glennon’s arm as fireballs fell to the earth all around him. He put his hands to Glennon’s throat and found the stamped silver pendant his mother had draped over his head the day Glennon had left. “You remember me, Karl,” she had said. “Don’t you forget to come home.”

Higgins draped the necklace over his own head and thumbed closed Glennon’s eyes. Holding the shield over his head in a helpless defense against the dragon's rain of terror, he turned and made his way to the gate. Commander Cullen was waving them inside, eyes turned to the lane the Herald was running up. Higgins slid inside and stumbled to the ground, giving himself a moment for the shock to wear off.

“Get everyone into the chantry!” he heard the Commander’s voice, from an impossibly long way away.

“Higgins?” The Herald’s hands were on his shoulder. “Can you get to the Chantry?”

“Glen…” he managed, realizing his eyes were full of smoke and tears.

“Maker, no,” she breathed. “Higgins… you have to get to the Chantry. I have to get the people out of these buildings, I can’t come back for you.”

“Trying to save me again?” he gritted, lifting himself off the ground. He couldn’t write to Mrs Glennon if he was dead. Neither she nor his own mother would ever know what happened to their boys if he didn’t get up off the ground. “Go, I’ll make it,” he said. Her footsteps on the scorched earth told her she’d taken him at his word.

She was set upon by Venatori not twenty paces away, and Higgins cleared his eyes and ran to join the fray. Ringwold was there, and Killeen, along with some four or five others he hadn’t met and a handful of templars. Together they did a building-to-building sweep, and pulled every survivior from the wreckage as they could. Higgins carried Maryden up to the Chantry doors, her form notably heavier than the Herald’s had been when he’d done Evelyn the same service.

When he _and Glennon_ had carried her home, but three nights past.


	18. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Destruction of Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't put your tissues away yet.

Higgins blinked, shook his head. The odd sensation that this was all a terrible dream, the epitome of all nightmares, wouldn't fade. The sounds of dragonfire and destruction past the doors and the cries of civilians and the injured within the Chantry were beyond anything his imagination could have conjured.

Cullen and Evelyn were arguing at the doors, Chancellor Roderick and the Tevinter newcomer seeming to sway whatever decision she made.

“I need a team!” Killeen hollered above the din. “One last trebuchet load!”

Higgins stood, but Killeen waved him down, handed him a note. “Hide that. Hold onto it. If I don’t come back, read it, follow the instructions. You got me?”

“I can come, Killer, I’m good.”

“That Glennon’s shield?” she asked coldly as ten volunteers for her team lined up behind her. Cullen was dismissing any who were overly injured, and seemed contented with those left.

Higgins nodded, once.

“One of you fuckers has to get out of here intact, do you hear me?”

“Kill-“

“That is a _fucking order, soldier_ ,” she roared, and Higgins, furious, saluted and took the paper from her – a hastily written letter that he tucked under his bracer, tight against his skin. As she tore out the door, Higgins realized the Herald and her team was gone, and Dorian was pulling Chancellor Roderick up off the ground.

Higgins strode over and pulled Roderick’s free arm across his shoulder, helping the Tevinter keep the injured man off the ground.

“Where are we going, ser?” he asked.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow at him. “Willingly talking to the Tevinter?”

Higgins closed his eyes and drew a deep breath before answering. “Willingly talking to anybody who can make sense of this massive fuckup, ser.”

“Language, boy,” Roderick muttered, as he gestured to a stairwell leading into the dungeon. “This is rightfully referred to as a _monumental clusterfuck_.” Higgins choked a bit in surprise. “If you’re going to curse, do it _properly_.”

With Roderick’s increasingly weak gestures leading the way, they found the portal in the back of the dungeon that led into the mountains, the hidden path that Roderick alone was alive to remember.

“Brought me here. She brought me here, She did. Left me alone alive to remember, to lead.” The hard part of the path was yet ahead of them; getting out of the Chantry was only the start of the trail. Leliana was sending what scouts that had survived out to make sure they found the way if Roderick didn’t survive long enough to show them. Roderick kept up the monologue as they staggered along.

“I have to go back, make sure the signal is sent,” Dorian said gently to Higgins. “Do you have him?”

“I’ll help,” Killeen’s voice suddenly answered. “Get moving, ‘Vint.”

Dorian nodded and ran back to where Cullen was directing people out, somehow taking a headcount as they streamed past him.

“How…”

“Give me the damn letter back,” Killeen said by way of greeting. Higgins dragged the paper out of his bracer and handed it to her. She tucked it into the neck of her armor and slung Roderick’s arm over her shoulder.

“It will curve to the left, up here,” Roderick said with a weak flap of his hand as they started walking again. “She is real,” he took up the monologue again. “She must be the Hand of the Maker’s Bride, she _must_. Only she survived, and only I remember. No other two could have brought us this far, could have saved us. I have been rebelling against Her will, and She has finally lifted the veil from my eyes.”

“Now!” They faintly heard Cullen’s shout from behind them. “Light it!”

There was a faint whizzing sound and a spark of light shot into the sky. Moments after, the unmistakable sound of a trebuchet spinning free and releasing, and some seconds later, the horrible screams of an avalanche being brought down on the Venatori. The cloud of dust that rose told Higgins that the avalanche had been brought down on Haven, itself.

“Where is the Herald?” he asked Killeen.

“Stayed behind to fire off the trebuchet,” she answered.

“ _What?_ ” Higgins hissed. “She pulled a mountain down on top of herself?”

“She got us free,” Killeen said brokenly, and Higgins realized that the Lieutenant was openly crying.

“Lieut…” he said, fighting to keep his steps even with hers to minimize the strain on the Chancellor.

“Brown,” she gasped out. “Daniel Brown. His name was Daniel.”

A sudden lump rose in Higgins’ throat.

“Maker preserve me, I loved that man,” Killeen sobbed. “ _Daniel._ ”

“Hendricks!” Higgins saw the Lieutenant trudging blindly some feet behind them. “Hendricks, come help the Chancellor!”

Hendricks staggered up, took the clergyman from Killeen, who stumbled off the path. A second later, a young man in an odd wide-brimmed hat was taking Higgins' place under Roderick’s other arm.

“Go help her,” the strange blond said, gently pushing Higgins towards Killeen. “Nobody was supposed to know, only asked the Commander to alleviate the guilt, was supposed to be forever, forever is a lie, would be better if everybody had known, all these eyes, raining, hailing, nobody can know, he’s gone and I’m alone.”

Higgins fell back a few steps, staring at the young man in shock. He got the distinct impression he was being told Killeen’s _thoughts_. Before he could reflect on it, he tumbled through the snow - realizing belatedly that there were new flakes falling - looking desperately for Killeen.

She was standing on the edge of the ragged column, eyes turned to the wilderness, weeping openly. Nobody seemed to notice.

“Killeen,” he said, wrapping an arm across the small of her back. “Killeen, I got you.”

She turned slightly, staring up at him.

“Morthoven,” he said softly. “Means something like _child of the sea_. Mother reads terrible novels.”

Killeen choked on a bitter laugh. “I’d go by _Morty_ too. Maker’s teeth, that’s awful.”

“Glennon… Glennon was Karl. But you knew that. Took our names down the first day.”

Killeen nodded. “You’re not going to believe this… but I’m an Evelyn. Like the Herald. I don’t intend to ever tell her.”

“Fair enough. How long… you and Brown…?”

Killeen shook her head. The broken line of refugees continued past them as if they were invisible. “A long time. No where near long enough. Started the second I laid eyes on him, the day I rolled into Haven; he was already signed on with the Commander. Never actually told me when he’d arrived. We were together by the time the Conclave was convened.”

“You did a bang-up job of hiding it,” Higgins congratulated her. “I could tell in half a heartbeat that the Commander was in love with the Herald, but I never guessed about you two.”

Killeen managed another laugh, although the bitterness was still thick. “It helps when you’re aware of it. We were conscientious about not taking any risks, not letting anyone know. We told the Commander right away, got his blessing. You and Glennon weren’t the only ones concerned about perceived fraternization.”

The mention of Glennon brought back the burning in his eyes, and he awkwardly cleared his throat against the lump rising in it.

“You… you two were boys together, right?” she asked, seeing his discomfort.

He nodded. “Neighbors. There was a mile between our houses – fathers were farmers, freeholders – but he was barely a year older than me, so running together was natural. Both had sisters and older brothers, so when we were old enough we left to become soldiers, sent what we could home. Took me two years to remember to call him _Glennon_ instead of _Karl_. I can’t… I can’t remember a time before I knew him. And the year after he left, when I wasn’t quite old enough or strong enough yet to go… that was the only time we’ve ever been apart, that and I when the Avvar had me.”

Killeen slung her arm around Higgins’ waist, and he laid his across her shoulders. They were turning to rejoin the column when Cullen stalked up to them. Cassandra was being half-dragged between Varric and Solas behind him. “Where is Roderick? Wasn’t he with you? We have to find shelter before this storm hits.”

Something about the bleakness in their expressions brought Cullen up short.

“Who?” he asked, the sudden gentleness in his voice causing Killeen to break down again.

“Brown, ser,” Higgins answered softly. And then, in a broken whisper, “And Glennon.”

Cullen let his head drop for a moment, and took several long breaths. “We will all join them if we do not find shelter,” he said at length. Higgins stepped away from Killeen and offered his shoulder to Cassandra, knowing his height would be a better fit than Varric or Solas. She seemed unspeakably angry, but she managed a polite smile as she accepted his help.

“Left her behind,” she muttered to Higgins as they worked to keep up with the rest of the column, Killeen ranging ahead to find Leliana and Roderick, find shelter, find anything to keep her mind off Brown’s death. “She said she would be right behind us. I knew it was a lie as it left her lips, but I followed her order. I would follow her order to my own death; I never thought I would follow it to hers.”

“She’s gone, then?” Higgins asked. He was quickly becoming numb, snow and losses deadening all sensation both physical and psychological.

“She stood alone against the Elder One and an archdemon,” Cassandra told him, the despair evident in her voice. “That she was yet alive when the beacon was lit we know because she fired off the trebuchet, created the avalanche. If she held out that long, against such odds, could we not hope she found shelter? But even if she was not crushed, how could she dig free of the debris of a mountainside? How could she find us, through the destruction of the town, out a door she was not shown, on a route she cannot know because we did not know it ourselves? And still, the wind picks up and the snow falls heavier. She may bear the favor of Andraste in her hand, but she is mortal. I have seen her cut, seen her bleed, seen her stumble. I watched her fight for survival for three days when she fell from the rift, saw Solas drive himself to the point of exhaustion to keep her tenuous hold on life. Logic tells me she is gone, that we are alone. Faith alone drives me forward, gives me Hope.”

“Faith,” Higgins answered, as if hearing the word for the first time. “Even Glennon believed in the Herald, and I never saw him step foot in a Chantry until we got to Haven, and then it was only on army business. He said, once, that he wondered if this was what it was like for those that followed Andraste in the beginning, this standing back and watching Her to see what would happen next.”

Cassandra hadn’t honestly expected the soldier standing in for a pair of crutches to answer her, much less with anything worth listening to. “She spoke of you, you know. Trevelyan. She said you were the only person she met the first day she was awake in Haven who treated her like a living breathing human being. You were the only one with the _audacity_ to offer her advice, when logically she needed nothing more. And yet, with the first words we exchange, you compare her to Andraste?”

Higgins grunted, remembering Aieyla busting his balls over treating the Herald as anything other than a woman, and wondered belated if Aieyla had even survived, immediately fighting a wave of guilt for not thinking of her sooner. “I was there when she fell out of the rift. Glen… Glennon and I carried her off the mountain. I fetched Solas, brought him to the dungeon to heal her. I fought demons on the mountainside with the Commander and watched the tide slow, falter, stop… felt _salvation_ when she closed the rift while we were all preparing ourselves to die in full retreat. I was captured and held hostage in the Fallow Mire, and she gave me her breath to open my lung and save my life. She charged out of the Chantry today and sent the rest of us running, sold her life for ours. How anyone can think she is merely human is beyond me; I am not so foolish as to believe just anyone could do what she’s done.”

“And yet…”

“She asked me. Looked me in the eye and personally requested that I help her be just another person. That I treat her the way I would treat anyone else, that I wouldn’t call her _my lady_ or _your Worship_ or anything more formal than _ser_. She asked me to call her by her first name and, once, I did. For everything she has done – for you, for me, for all of us, for everyone out in the world who never saw the Breach and will never believe it existed – if all she wants in return is for me to call her ‘ser’ then _by the Maker_ I’m going to do it.”

“Seeker Cassandra!” A voice cut through the snow, interrupting whatever response Higgins might have hoped to receive.

“Here! We are coming!”

Lady Vivienne emerged from the thickening snowfall. “We have shelter, of a sort. A _bowl_ , the scouts called it, somewhere sheltered from the wind that our forces will fit into. It is not far. I will heal you, my dear, so you are not left behind.”

“Save it,” Cassandra gritted. “Higgins will see me to camp. Our passing has churned the snow, we will not lose the way.”

“Very well. But as soon as we are settled I will come for you. The apostate insisted your wound was dire.”

“It is a burn,” Cassandra answered, a bit reluctantly. “The snow is helping a great deal.”

Vivienne nodded, and disappeared back into the snow, striding off with a purpose.

“She’s right,” Cassandra said as the enchanter vanished. “We must pick up our pace.”


	19. Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of the Destruction of Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian makes himself useful or dies trying.

Higgins and Cassandra staggered into the ragged camp housing what was left of the Inquisition some fifteen minutes later. Cullen looked relieved to see them. “You were the last but for one,” he told Cassandra as Higgins carried her into what could only be the command tent. It was the first up, but dozens were popping up around it, at a dizzying pace. Cullen quickly found a stool and unfolded it for Cassandra, and Higgins helped her to sit before trying to bow out of the way.

“No. Stay,” Cullen said. “We have lost our infrastructure, I have no way of sending word or getting news. If you are hale, I will requisition your services as my runner for the time being.”

Higgins nodded, and was quickly handed a stool. It was awkward to sit while the Commander stood and paced, but after half-carrying the armored Seeker through the snow, the mere act of sitting was a luxury he wouldn’t deny.

“Where did all this come from?” he asked the Commander as Cassandra worked to free her leg from the burned wreckage of her boots and breeches. _Need… better… greaves_ , she muttered under her breath between hisses of pain.

“Threnn,” Cullen answered easily. “As soon as she heard the call to arms, she grabbed what villagers she could and had everyone carry supplies into the Chantry. The shepherds have already found us, so we have most of the livestock from Haven as well. When the Herald shows up, she’ll be thrilled at her own accidental foresight.”

Cassandra and Higgins exchanged a glance at Cullen’s tone. He was refusing to allow for the possibility that the Herald wasn’t coming back.

“You said we were the last but one,” Cassandra prompted him. “You did a head count at the door?”

“I did. Aside from the Herald, who I will happily add to the total when she arrives, everyone made it here who came out of the Chantry except one. Cole is looking for the last, he won’t get lost in the storm.”

“Cole?” Higgins asked.

“The, well, spirit, I suppose, who helped the Herald escape Envy at Therinfall Redoubt. Young man, blonde, weird hat.”

Higgins nodded. That explained who had taken Roderick from him. He mentally added it to the list of things to process later.

As if summoned, the strange lad appeared in the tent. “Found him,” he said simply, and waved for Cullen to follow before vanishing back into the snow..

Cassandra went to stand, but Cullen waved her down. “Vivienne will be here shortly. We will need to move tomorrow, put more distance between us and Haven once the storm breaks. This is only shelter, it is not defensible – not remotely. You need to be able to hold your own.”

Higgins flinched at the statement, but Cassandra merely nodded, sitting back to wait for the healer. Cullen gestured for Higgins to join him, and he quickly rose from his stool to follow the Commander out into the blizzard. On his way through the tent flap, he caught a glimpse at the charred ruin that was Cassandra’s leg, and wondered if the Seeker would even keep it, much less walk on her own.

Cullen was following Cole into the snow at a brisk pace, and Higgins trotted to catch up. When Cullen stopped it was so sudden Higgins nearly ran into his back, throwing himself a bit to the side to avoid the collision. When his eyes cleared the Commander’s shoulders, he saw what had brought the older man up short.

Hendricks was lying facedown in the snow, two feet of broadsword sticking out his back.

“Fuck,” Higgins hissed, at a loss for any other words.

“Blamed himself,” Cole said suddenly. “His watch, his men, his fault. Believed the Herald died for his mistake.”

“Fell on his sword,” Cullen said, shaking his head. “Maker, take him to Your side.”

Cullen scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. “Going to need to scrounge up some wood for a pyre. The last thing we need is Hendricks’ corpse rising in the middle of our camp.”

“That’s a bit cynical, isn’t it, ser?” Higgins said, wishing he could feel something for Hendricks, even if only shock.

“With how many have died so near to here? With the scar from the Breach still twisted in the air over the wreckage of the Conclave? I have never been anywhere the Veil was so thin, and I was in Ferelden during the Blight. We must mind our dead.”

Higgins swallowed roughly. “You’re right, ser. Sorry.”

Cullen placed a hand gently on Higgins' shoulder. “I don’t even know where to begin with Hendricks, though. I can’t imagine anyone having to handle this without it being a cruelty.”

“That sounds like my cue,” Dorian announced as he fought through the snow to their side. “Poor sod,” he said as he took in Hendricks’ form. “I can take care of this for you, Commander. Turn your attention to the living.”

“It needs to be fire,” Cullen said.

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m from Tevinter, not Nevarra. And I can provide fire a bit easier than anyone else you have on hand, if we’re honest.”

Cullen nodded, roughly clapping Dorian on the shoulder as he led Higgins back through the snow.

Killeen was in the command tent when they returned. She looked as numb as Higgins felt as she rattled off an update to the Commander: number of tents, number of fires, number of people, number of injured, number of missing down to only one.

“That’s the last accounted for,” Cullen said to her. “Hendricks fell on his sword. Dorian is providing the pyre.”

“Maker’s mercy,” Cassandra breathed, and then hissed a line of invectives as Vivienne, who was kneeling at her feet, worked to heal her leg.

“Easy, now, my dear. You’re very close to losing everything below your knee. I’ll do what I can, now, but I will need to find lyrium and return.”

“And yet again on cue,” Dorian said, sweeping into the tent. He tossed a potion to Vivienne, who thumbed off the cap and downed it in a single unladylike pull.

“Did you need something?” Cullen asked.

“I set the fire some distance away from camp, to reduce onlookers. There’s a man there – Rylen? – overseeing the burn. It didn’t take much to pull deadfall out of the snow and light it up. I’m worthless at healing but I’ve made sure all the campfires are lit and likely to stay that way. And now I’m here, to offer my services however you may see fit. I’d also like to stay as far away as possible from anything cold, so inside would be preferable to outside.”

Higgins chuckled, although the humor didn’t penetrate very deeply. “Drive the temperature of this tent up a few degrees and you’re worth your weight in gold, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Likewise,” Killeen agreed. With a flourish, Dorian sent narrow streams of fire into the frozen earth beneath them, the heat then radiating up to markedly warm the tent.

“Bless you,” Killeen said, sinking onto the stool Cassandra had just vacated and passed to her.

“I will go find Leliana and Josephine. Perhaps we can consolidate them into this space as well, for the night.” Cassandra stalked out of the tent without waiting for acknowledgement of her plan.

“What do we need, ser?” Higgins asked Cullen.

The Commander was gazing at the tent flap, eyes drawn to the bit of snow blowing in at the bottom to gently drift on the floor.

“The Herald,” he answered. It was unclear whether he knew he’d spoken, but the truth of his words was undeniable.

“Breakfast for tomorrow," he continued, his expression clearing. "There’s less than a thousand of us – _again_ – so it should be easier to come by. Kitchen staff needs to be found, organized, and informed of head count. Supplies need to be inventoried. What did we manage to bring, what can we acquire, what _must we_ acquire. This should include food and alchemical reagents as well as armor and weaponry. Everyone needs shelter for the night. This spot is sheltered but indefensible – we must trust to the storm for our protection. What mages we have - Dorian, Vivienne, Solas if you can find him – if you can find some way to set any kind of wards around this bowl, alarm or defensive or otherwise, that will have to suffice.”

Dorian nodded and extended his arm to Lady Vivienne. She gave him a slow once-over and slid past him out the tent. Dorian seemed offended but not surprised, and he followed her into the storm.

“We have a head count, but we need a census. That would be easier to conduct in the morning, but by then we might have lost people. The names of everyone in the camp will have to be collected tonight, so we ensure no one is lost to the storm.”

“That, I already have,” Josephine said, sweeping into the room with her writing board. “My number is only off yours by two.” Leliana and then Cassandra ducked into the room behind her, and Higgins grew more uncomfortable by the second.

“Higgins came in with me,” Cassandra said, pointing at the soldier in the corner.

“Oh, so good to finally make your acquaintance,” Josephine said with a slightly awkward smile. “I apologize it could not have been under more… pleasant circumstances.”

“The pleasure is mine, my lady,” Higgins answered stiffly, attempting to stand from the stool and being forced down by one of the Commander’s hands on his shoulder. “Rest, man, you’ve earned a few minutes off your feet.”

“Thank you, ser,” he replied and fought to stay awake.

“Hendricks was the last,” Cullen said softly. “He can be struck from the list. Cole found his body in the snow.”

“Maker preserve us,” Josephine gasped, “did he freeze so quickly?”

“No, Josie,” Cullen said softly. “He fell on his sword. He felt some amount of responsibility for Haven’s destruction and the Herald’s course of action.”

“Has there been any sign of Evelyn?” Leliana asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence, and the question brought Higgins instantly awake.

“We made no attempt to hide our trail. If she is following closely, she should have no trouble finding the camp. But it would be suicide to send anyone out in this.”

“We are agreed. I have kept my scouts close to camp. I understand Vivienne, Dorian, and Solas are setting wards around the ridgeline to serve as our night sentries?”

“Yes. If something comes across us tonight, in this storm, we are done for. We might as well trust to the Maker and get some sleep.”

“Aieyla and Mahvrin have been working on tallying supplies,” Leliana said, easily changing the topic of conversation. “I was approached by the cook, and was told in no uncertain terms to expect food in the morning for so long as the Tevinter could keep the fire going. Dorian assures us this will be no problem. Adan has escaped with much of his supplies, as they were close to the Quartermaster’s stores and picked up during the evacuation. The only total loss was Harritt; he could not be expected to bring cartloads of iron with him, and so we are without any smithing resources for the time being.”

Killeen breathed a sigh. “That leaves blessedly little for us to do.”

“The Inquisition’s people know their jobs,” Leliana said simply. “They merely await us to point them in the correct direction.”

“Killeen, Higgins,” the Commander looked to them both in turn, “find someplace to bunk down and sleep as much as you can. There is space in this tent, if you want it. Tomorrow will be frightful; as soon as the storm breaks we must find someplace defensible to hole up while we sift through our options.

“At first light my scouts will go looking for just such a location,” Leliana assured him.

“Yes. Well. The nearer the better. Getting the injured through the snow will be a nightmare at best.”

“Understood, Commander,” she said a bit icily. Higgins remembered belatedly that the Inquisition bore no Inquisitor… the war council members sat as equals. Cullen was taking the lead now, but that was sure to not last long.

“What will you be doing, Commander?” Josephine asked, more courteously than Leliana but with the same undertone.

“Praying,” Cullen answered shortly, and shouldered his way out of the tent.

“He will be broken if she does not return,” Leliana said softly to Cassandra.

“I will watch him,” Cassandra replied. “He has already asked me to monitor his… situation. I have faith in him under most circumstances, but losing Evelyn…”

_“She is not lost yet!”_ Josephine cried suddenly, startling everyone else in the tent. Her eyes welled up with tears. “She will return to us. She _must_ return to us. She _must_.”

Leliana quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing Antivan as Higgins discreetly moved to the back half of the tent with Killeen. The space was lined with bedrolls, more than the war council would need. Removing just enough armor to allow him to get comfortable on the frozen earth, Higgins crawled into the fur-lined bed roll closest to the wall of the tent, arguably the coldest spot.

“Look at you, being a gentleman and shit,” Killeen forced a laugh as she mimicked his actions and slid into the roll next to his.

“Maybe we can get Dorian to heat up the floor in here, too,” she said as her teeth chattered a bit.

“And again! I arrive as if summoned,” the Tevinter laughed as he poked his head through the tent flap. Killeen made a happy sound as the worst of the chill was eliminated and a subtle warmth radiated up around her.

“Bless you, Vint, and your bizarre timing.”

“There’s plenty of sleep space in here, Dorian,” Higgins offered, trying to put the mage at ease. The Tevinter had definitely picked the wrong day to join the Inquisition.

“Someone has to bring your dashing Commander to bed,” Dorian said, waggling his eyebrows to draw a genuine laugh out of Killeen. “He’s like to freeze to death out there on his own. When I can convince him to shelter, I too will rest.”

“You’re a good man, Vint,” Killeen said, sleep gripping the edges of her voice.

Dorian left without reply.

Higgins scooted his bedroll closer to Killeen, allowing proximity to assist in keeping in the heat. “Snuggle up, Nuggins,” Killeen murmured as sleep took her.


	20. Snow and Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which their Faith is rewarded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted Chapter 19 but AO3 wouldn't say that this was updated. So, rather than stress over it, I'm putting up Chapter 20 today, too! Enjoy!

The blizzard blew itself out an hour or so before dawn, although it seemed likely to spit snow all day, and Higgins was the first one awake in the command tent. He stepped carefully over the sleeping forms of the Spymaster, Ambassador, Seeker and Commander. Dorian was asleep next to Killeen, the blond’s head resting in the crook of the mage’s shoulder where he’d wrapped an arm around her in the night. The material under her eyes was wet; Higgins could guess why the Tevinter would have sought to comfort the Lieutenant, and vowed not to mention it.

There were only two or so feet of new snow, but to an army of walking wounded it might as well have been ten. They would be slowed to a crawl. Higgins stepped a few feet away from the tent and did a slow circle, bemused by the odd lumps in the snow he knew to be tents full of soldiers and civilians alike. All the fires were still burning brightly – some trick of Dorian’s, likely – and there were few enough people awake and moving about to give the setting a surreal quality.

The tent flap burst open behind him, and the Commander stumbled out into the cold dawn air. He stared at Higgins for a long moment before sighing and reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“I heard footsteps in the snow and awoke, thinking… well, hoping rather…”

“Understood, ser,” Higgins said, a bit darkly. “We’ve already lost so much. Doesn’t seem right to have lost her, too.”

Higgins turned back to look out into the snow, vainly trying to remember which way they’d come in the day before, which direction Haven lay in. He heard a whisper of movement behind him and glanced back to see the Commander was gone.

Breakfast was hot oats and fruit, a brilliant piece of normal in an otherwise completely inconceivable day.

The kitchen was cleaned up and packed up, and the rest of the impromptu encampment was following suit when a scout ran up to Leliana. “Nightingale! A word! We found-“

She had all eyes on her before she got ‘Nightingale’ out of her mouth.

“-a prime spot to camp! It is only three miles away, a shallow but wide ravine with only two routes of egress.”

It was hard to be disappointed in the scout, who had found precisely what she had been sent for, but hope was dribbling out of their fingers by the hour. As the scout described the location to Cullen – hardly ideal for an army, but nearly perfect for refugees – Killeen took Higgins by the arm and led him away. “Druffalo,” she said only.

“Wait, what?”

Killeen shook her head. “Sorry. Brown and I talked about it once. Druffalo to break the snow. Find the herders, get them to line the Druffalo into a v-shape, and we’ll used them to break the snow drifts. Rotate out the lead beast like flocks of geese do. We’ll have the shepherds push the rams through right behind them, it will trample the snow for our people. You go find the herders, I’ll explain the concept to the powers-that-be.”

“Right,” Higgins said, quickly grasping the theory, and trudged off to the edge of camp where he’d heard the flocks were sheltering in the lee of an overhang.

In all, it took six hours for the Inquisition to cross the three miles to the new location. As the bulk of the survivors set camp, Leliana had her lightest scouts build snowshoes from pine bows and sent them out in all directions. Where was the Herald? How far were they from Haven? Where were the Venatori? What was nearby? These were the questions Leliana most needed answered.

The Herald was no where to be seen. Haven was wiped completely off the map, even more so under the thick layer of snow – the scouts had a rough idea of where it was, but they could be off by miles. The Venatori were similarly missing. And it seemed nothing at all was nearby – no crofters, no miners, not even any entrances to the Deep Roads. This portion of the Frostbacks seemed utterly desolate.

Cullen grew markedly quieter and more withdrawn as the day passed. Leliana was correct when she said the Inquisition knew their jobs; there was little for Cullen to do but wander about and try to perk up morale. Given how he hovered on the edge of despair, he wasn’t well suited to boosting spirits.

Higgins found himself wandering laps around the encampment, pitching in where he could, but mostly moving to keep warm and give himself the illusion of business. In his head, he fought to put together a string of words that might explain how utterly desolate the world had become. His thoughts matched the slow pace of his steps.

_Unleash this confusion, I’ll wander in defeat. Wonder how better now having survived. Jarring of judgment and reasons replete, the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth – I’m alive._

Leliana called her scouts in as darkness fell – the cold and elevation would kill those slight enough to run across the tops of the snow – and Cullen had a beacon lit on the hill just past the entrance to the ravine. There was a brief and heated discussion of the wisdom of such a beacon, and Cassandra convinced Cullen to extinguish the flame.

“She will see it, will feel the heat and know it is new, know she is close. We cannot risk attracting the archdemon.”

Higgins stood at the Commander’s elbow, remembering what Dorian had said the night before. He doubted his ability to force Cullen to rest, and so was content to hold vigil beside him.

“Though all before me is shadow,” Cullen whispered into the dark, “yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

It seemed to be the only verse the Commander remembered, although Higgins was sure his years as a templar had taught him much of the Chant.   
“Nothing He has wrought shall be lost,” Higgins echoed dumbly.

Cullen hissed in a breath. “Did you see that?” He grabbed Higgins’ arm roughly, pointing to the Beacon.

It took a second for the form to materialize out of the darkness, but it staggered towards the Beacon, arms outstretched. The figure on the hill seemed to see the glow of fires in the camp below, and as it turned, its feminine face was illuminated by an eerie glow of green.

“Go! Fetch Adan and Mother Giselle, bring them to the command tent!”

Cassandra was plowing past him in the opposite direction as he raced into camp, Solas hard on her heels, as the Commander’s voice rang out. “It’s her!”

Cassandra’s heartfelt “Thank the Maker!” carried across the snow, echoing off the walls of the ravine and reaching every ear in the camp. People were stumbling out of their tents as Higgins flew past, skidding to a halt in front of the campfire where Mother Giselle was helping Adan tend to the wounded.

“It’s her,” Higgins gasped. “The Herald. She’s found us. Cullen needs you to meet us in the command tent.”

“How…” Adan began, shocked.

“She must be near to frozen,” Mother Giselle said, lifting herself off the ground with alacrity. “How she has survived…”

“Please, come,” Higgins practically begged and Adan started to move.

Higgins turned to lead them to the command tent, and ran headlong into Dorian. The Tevinter’s face was lit up with Hope for the first time since Higgins had known him. “They’ve found her?”

“She’s found us. Cullen’s bringing her to the command tent.”

Dorian spun and raced to beat them there, pointing at the ground and lifting the temperature by twenty or thirty degrees in a matter of seconds. His face was beaded with sweat, but he was grinning widely at the inhabitants. Leliana and Josephine looked at the man as if he’d gone mad.

Higgins directed Mother Giselle and Adan inside, further confusing Leliana.

“Did you not hear?” he asked, finally seeing her confusion for what it was. “She has found us. The Herald… found her way through the snow. The Commander is bringing her here.”

“Go!” Leliana cried, as Josephine burst into happy tears. “Fetch Sera and Cassandra, we will need all hands…”

“Ain’t no need to be fetchin’ what’s already here,” Sera said, sliding through the tent flap. “Ooh, made it all toasty already.”

Higgins tumbled out of the tent and stood in the darkness, waiting. Dorian’s hand was twitching on the tentflap, and when the mage suddenly jerked it open, it took a moment for Higgins to see the form of Cassandra, shield out, throwing people to the side to clear a path for the Commander. Cullen had his arms full of iced-over leather, the Herald’s hood drawn up to cover her head. The green glow against Cullen’s chest was more than enough to identify her to Higgins; that, and the expression of unbridled joy on the Commander’s face. As Cullen carried Trevelyan into the command tent, Higgins raced to the opposite end of the camp, where Killeen had settled into a tent with the survivors of her company, hoping to boost morale by staying close. She was stumbling out into the snow when Higgins practically danced into the camp.

“No!” Killeen breathed, shocked nearly senseless.

“Yes!” Higgins replied, kicking the snow into the air with a childlike glee. “Saw her with my own eyes! Name me one other person with a glowing green hand who might be out looking for the Inquisition on a night like this!”

Killeen inexplicably burst into tears, and Higgins calmed enough to throw his arms around her. She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed. “She did it. Maker’s breath, she did it. Crazy bitch actually did it.”

Higgins stayed with Killeen until she had control of her emotions again, and then fought his way back through the pressing crowd to the command tent. Cullen was sitting outside the tent, arms crossed, an imposing human barrier against any possible intrusion.

“Ser,” Higgins said, pushing his way out of the crowd and crossing the ten paces of empty space between the people and the Commander’s stony glare.

“Higgins,” Cullen answered, his voice more a warning than a greeting.

“I’d like to pass news, ser. Everyone has heard, but rumors, ser…”

The Commander’s face softened. “Of… of course. Tell them… Tell them the Herald has returned to us. She is nearly frozen but alive. You saw her, did you not? It was you… standing watch with me, wasn’t it, Higgins?”

Higgins nodded. “Saw the glow of her hand, ser.”

Cullen smiled. “Go spread your news, then. We will fortify our position here for the foreseeable future; the Herald must recover and now that she has returned we must decide our course of action.”

“Of course, ser. All sorts of new possibilities on the table, I’m sure,” Higgins grinned his thanks and, with a bracing breath, dove back into the crowd. He slogged his way through the press of people – worse now that they knew he had an announcement to make – and found a barrel near the kitchen fire and stood upon it.

There were so many eyes on him. It was easy to believe, if only for a moment, that the whole world waited for what he had to say. It was only the Inquisition – but it was _his_ world. And through fire and ruin he had come to a place where he could make a difference in it.

Silence gathered around him as he pulled together his words. He realized his face was completely neutral, and he let a smile break across his features. “The Herald is returned.” He said simply, and the air around him erupted in cheers. It was many long minutes before the exultation – and tears, and vows of vengeance, and cheers, and hugging, and more tears – wound down enough for Higgins to say any more. “She is nearly frozen, but she is alive. We are to stay encamped here for the foreseeable future, as the Commander says it, to allow the Herald a chance to recover and to plan what comes next for the Inquisition.”

“Are you sure?” someone near the front asked loudly, causing a ripple of silence. Higgins located the speaker – it was Ringwold.

“I saw her myself,” Higgins answered gently, and saw some of the tension ease out of the crowd. “And Commander Cullen himself stands guard. Would he put himself on door duty for anyone less?”

Whoops and cries of confirmation rose up, and Higgins jumped off the barrel, wrapping an arm around Ringwold. “I swear to you, I saw her myself. Saw the Commander race into the snow to carry her the rest of the way into camp. Believe me, it’s her.”

Ringwold’s eyes filled with tears. “We have killed Her twice, and twice has Andraste returned Her to us. We cannot fail. The Maker himself stands between us and ruin. Though we may all die in the process, we will find victory in the end. The Herald will see to it we shall overcome.”

Higgins clapped the man on the shoulder and walked away, suddenly eager to find Killeen. Ringwold’s opinion seemed to be the dominant one around the fire; most of them seemed held by religious fervor.

“You agree with them, I assume,” she said as he found her, hard on the edge of the exultant crowd.

“Of course I do,” he admitted easily. “She survived a one-on-one with an archdemon, whoever that Elder Guy is, and then dropped an avalanche onto herself. _Then_ she walked 8 miles through a blizzard that dropped two feet of fresh snow on top of however much was already on the ground. She’s…” he trailed off as he remembered the conversation he’d had with Glennon and Brown, all those weeks ago, as they sat around the fire in C-block and compared the Herald to Andraste Herself. “She’s a walking bloody miracle,” he finished finally, and Killeen swallowed roughly. Brown must have said it to her, as well.

“All those whispers around her when she comes to…? It will be worse now than it ever was in Haven,” Killeen said, eying the crowd. “If I were her, I’d rather just not wake up. The pressure to be the walking will of the Maker when you’re just a street rat from Ostwick…”

Higgins started to protest the defamation of the Herald’s character, until he realized those were almost the exact words her father had used when he’d tried to hire Glennon and himself to follow the youngest Trevelyan on her illicit meetings with the Carta.

Would Andraste’s chosen really be a woman with such a thin respect for property ownership?

Higgins laughed to himself, causing Killeen to arch an eyebrow. “Her breath in my lung is the reason I yet live, Lieut,” he said after a lengthy pause. “I owe her more than I can ever hope to pay. If she’s willing to allow me to discharge my debt by treating her like some nobody, I would be a fool not to take her up on it.”

Killeen shook her head. “You have the most ass-backward logic I have ever heard in my life, Nuggins.”

“Hey, if the shoe fits…”

“The Commander,” Dorian said without preamble as he strode up to them and took their arms to drag them further out of the firelight. “He has been in love with the Herald for how long?”

Killeen burst into laughter – not the throaty chuckle Higgins was fond of, but an actual full-bodied laugh that surprised Higgins enough that he jumped. She knocked herself off balance when she threw her head back, and Higgins deftly caught her and kept her from falling down.

“She won him over the day they met,” Higgins informed the mage as Killeen fought to pull herself together. “He walked into the Chantry full of piss and vineagar about the _heresy_ of calling this woman the Herald of Andraste. He came out an hour later all smiles and bonus pay, telling us _Herald_ this and _Herald_ that.”

Dorian nodded. “Any indication they’ve discussed it?”

Higgins considered the idea and almost immediately discarded it, shaking his head, _no_. “Honestly, ser, we don’t think _they_ know.”

“No, the Commander is absolutely clueless,” Killeen said, finally reining in her amusement. “If you want to know what the Herald thinks, you need to ask Aieyla.”

“And that is…”

“Her Personal Assistant,” Higgins answered easily. “Blond, young, female, elf. Rather timid, actually. She’ll likely be terrified of you. Scratch that, she’s _guaranteed_ to be terrified of you. Mahvrin might be an easier mark.”

“And _that_ is…? Her tailor?”

“Aieyla’s husband,” Killeen answered. “Evelyn found him, punished the merchant who was holding him against his will, and returned him to Aieyla. Stood beside her at the wedding, even. Nice little affair. Great food.”

Dorian was looking back and forth between the two of them with growing amusement. “Everyone else here is worshipping her like the second coming of Andraste, and you two chatted with her over _hors d’oeuvre_?

After exchanging glances and shrugs, Higgins and Killeen both nodded at Dorian. “Pretty much.”

“And you’re so different why?”

Killeen pointed silently at Higgins, who had the good grace to be embarrassed. “Because the first morning she woke up in Haven, after falling out of the rift and being kept in the dungeon and used to close rifts on the mountain… I realized nobody had the decency to ask her for her name. So I did. And she lit up like the dawn.”

“Ah, yes, the allure of bare human decency. Good on you… Nuggins, was it?”

Killeen collapsed into a gale of laughter. This time, Higgins let her hit the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Higgins' song is not my own, but was appropriated from the insanely sexy Hozier, and altered to serve my purposes. There is more of it coming.


	21. The Waiting

The waiting was the worst.

They had no plan. No destination. No goal. The idea that the Herald might not wake up began to take hold in camp.

“No one could survive that,” Higgins heard a man say – a newer recruit, never reassigned out of F-Block. “Andraste merely sent her to us with a message. She was sent to tell us of our doom, to tell us of the hand that struck down the Divine and then in turn silenced our Herald.”

“You know that’s not true,” Higgins said, and though he lacked conviction he instantly garnered listeners. “All you have to do is watch the Commander. He’s impatient, and worried, but he’s not _devastated_. If the Herald were to die, you’d be able to read it on Rutherford’s face.”

He was generally considered to be right – Lieutenant Brown had been a vocal advocate for the Commander and the Herald’s hypothetical love affair, and Brown had reached martyr status in the eyes of many of his men: whatever opinions Brown held were by default true. It seemed no one had been there when Brown fell – everyone who was with him was missing, and Killeen had confessed she had seen him die but she wouldn’t speak of it further. His death was thus free to be fictionalized however the soldiers saw fit.

Killeen quickly learned to disappear whenever Brown came up in conversation.

“I could stop it, you know,” Higgins told her on the second evening after Evelyn’s coming as they sat by the fire nearest the command tent. “I would only have to tell maybe five people that you and Brown were secretly in love – no details, of course – and you would never hear mention of it again. Word would spread and they’d respect your mourning.”

Killeen considered the offer, staring into the fire as a dozen emotions played across her face.

“No,” she said at last. “I would never hear about _him_ again, either. The idea that he might fade from memory… he deserves better. He deserves more. Let them idolize him. He was worthy of it. I will heal someday, and I will be glad to be surrounded by stories of him.”

Higgins simply nodded. “I envy you the option,” he admitted. “Already Glennon’s name has disappeared from my ears.”

“Varric could fix that, you know,” she said wryly. “And it would give him something to do.”

“Yes, but Varric would call him _Meatshield_ and where’s the good in that?”

“You tell me, Nuggins.”

“Fuck you, ser.”

Killeen opened her mouth to retort – something vile, most like – when Dorian suddenly strode past. The Herald was being watched around the clock in a small tent just beside the command tent, the only person in the Inquisition with private quarters. The various leaders were sleeping wherever they could find space – Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine in the small room in the back of the command tent, the Commander wherever he was forced to sleep, which was often in Dorian’s tent when it happened at all. Dorian was moving quite purposefully from Trevelyan’s tent towards where the Commander had been bullied into sleep some five hours before. Not two minutes later, Cullen was backtracking Dorian’s steps at a near-run.

Killeen half-stood in anticipation while Higgins let a broad smile crease his face. Hope was plastered across Cullen’s features.

As Cullen scratched on the tent flap, paused, and then entered on some signal they couldn’t discern, Higgins and Killeen lept to their feet. “Go, go,” Higgins hissed, gesturing for Killeen to get closer and listen in while he kept watch.

Higgins glanced at Killeen’s face every few seconds as he continuously scanned for any potential witnesses to their impropriety. Kileen was frowning hard as she listened.

“Leliana,” she mouthed. A pause. “Cullen,” she indicated next. And then her eyes flew wide and she threw her arms up in celebration. She took three awkward two-footed hops across the intervening space and threw herself into Higgin’s arms.

“She’s awake! She’s awake! She’s alive! Oh, thank the Maker.”

“You could have just _asked me_ ,” Dorian’s voice interrupted their celebration. Higgins quickly set Killeen down and turned to greet the Tevinter.

“You weren’t here, ser, this was faster,” Higgins answered, unashamed.

Dorian grinned. “Woke up and immediately asked for the Commander. Greeted Aieyla, greeted the Nightingale, and then repeated her request. We have two very oblivious and very smitten individuals on our hands.”

Higgins just shook his head. “The fate of the damn world rests on her continued survival, _ser_ ,” he chided the mage. “Whether or not she is in love with the Commander is the least of our concerns.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” Dorian said as he sidled closer. “Whether or not she is able to keep her humanity, and thus her _focus_ , is the greatest of our concerns. And what is more human than love?”

 

*

 

“How are you holding up?” Higgins asked Killeen the next day. The waiting was getting tedius – the Herald was awake but weak, her council dividied and frustrated.

“Frustrated,” she responded. She gestured for Higgins to sit beside her on the empty barrels she’d claimed for chairs by the fire. The crowd was thin and restless, people coming and going so often as to give the illusion of anonymity.

“So say we all,” he replied wryly.

She fluttered a dismissive hand at the slowly-growing volume of the war council’s disagreement. “Not that. Words. Words are failing.”

“Oh,” Higgins settled onto a barrel beside her. “My answer stands. I’ve been hunting for words for days.”

Killeen’s eyes softened. “We all lost someone, I know. Mother Giselle has been encouraging people to talk about it, but everything is either too much or not enough.”

“Unleash this confusion, I’ll wander in defeat,” Higgins softly spoke, almost a chant and he sought for the rhythm he’d settled on days before, “wonder how better now having survived. Jarring of judgment and reasons replete – the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth – I’m alive.”

Killeen looked at him in shock. “Spending time with Maryden?”

Higgins shook his head. “No. Haven’t seen her once, actually. Just…. Glennon always encouraged Maryden. And I know how Trevelyan feels about songs, how she’s always looking for new ones and asking people to sing for her. And they’ve both been… weighing the heaviest on my mind. So it made sense, to try to think up lyrics rather than just words. Its almost… like I can say more by saying less, and that’s what you were just saying, right?”

Killeen was leaning back, eyes closed, and Higgins almost stood up to leave when she suddenly spoke.

“Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion, no more alone or myself could I be. Looks like a strain to the arms were it open, no shortage of sordid, no protest from me.”

Higgins smiled at her, the expression widening when she returned it. Before he could say anything, a soft voice from across the fire interrupted.

“I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful, toying somewhere between love and abuse. Calling to join them the wretched and joyful, shaking the wings of their terrible youths.”

Higgins didn’t recognize the speaker – a tired and disheveled templar – but Killeen called him to join them. “Eamon, Higgins. Higgins, Eamon.”

“The new Lieutenant, more or less,” Higgins acknowledged him.

“Half of the pair everyone wanted to fight Brown for,” Eamon returned.

Both Killeen’s and Higgins’ faces fell. Eamon shifted awkwardly. “Maker, Brown too?”

“And Glennon,” Killeen said gently.

Eamon shook his head. “What a day. The greatest victory and the greatest defeat of my life, within hours of each other.”

Higgins laughed, barely more than an amused cough, “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but yeah. Would have been easier to bear if they’d happened in the opposite order.”

“And your Herald. Our Herald.” Eamon shook his head slowly. “She rolled into Therinfall and in hours unraveled months of plotting, saved all of us as weren’t corrupted, and swore us all to the Inquisition with her smile. I thought we would be reviled, thought the world would believe us possessed or enchanted. And then we arrive in Haven and… you. All of you. Every last one of you under the same spell. And not just the soldiers… her team, her mercenaries, her advisors. The servants and staff. You all live and breathe for her.”

“Some of us literally,” Higgins said with a smile.

“I heard that story,” Eamon admitted. “She rescued a patrol that was captured and brought one back to life with a kiss.”

“It was _assistive breathing,_ not a _kiss_ , and I was still alive, thank you very much,” Higgins laughed. “She used her own air to reinflate my lung that had collapsed.”

Eamon’s eyes widened. “So it not only really happened, it happened to _you_.”

Killeen nodded. “Ask Varric or Cassandra or Solas, they were there. So was Jenson.”

“And Pierce and Walker,” Higgins added, but Killeen’s face darkened as she shook her head. “Can’t ask them,” she informed him, and Higgins felt his heart break all over again.

They were all silent for a bit, until Eamon’s baritone broke into their thoughts. “Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet. Fresh from the fields all feeder and fertile; it’s bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet.”

“I’m writing this down,” Higgins said, pushing himself to his feet and going in search of a quill.

“Already done,” another voice interrupted. Maryden was sitting some distance behind them, a writing board like Josephine’s on her hip. “I figured, if you wanted privacy, you wouldn’t be sitting around a campfire in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Mother Giselle told us to talk about what happened,” Killeen answered. “Anyone who wants to join in is welcome.”

Maryden stood and moved closer to the fire, seating herself delicately on the pile of firewood waiting nearby.

“Higgins saved me,” she said softly. “Simple as that. I was trapped, he swung me over his shoulder and carried me to the Chantry. He and Glennon were always good to me, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I owe him my life.”

Higgins reached out and took her hand, giving it a light squeeze and dropping it. “Happy to help,” he said simply.

“I’ve been told… I didn’t want to believe, but I didn’t want to ask you, either… but is…”

“Glennon fell,” Higgins answered the question she couldn’t form. Maryden’s eyes filled with tears. “How?”

Higgins shook his head.

“No, Higgins, please. I need to know.”

It was many long minutes before he could summon the words. “He was standing beside the trebuchet when the dragon blew it up. Killed him instantly. I was looking him in the eye when it happened.”

Maryden pushed up from the woodpile, dropping the writing board to the snow, and crossed the two paces to Higgins to throw her arms around his neck, collapsing against him. Higgins twisted a bit to the side so she was draped across his lap, and he buried his head against her shoulder and let himself cry with, comforting as he was comforted.

He felt pressure against his back and realized Killeen had stood and was towering over them, standing guard over his moment of mourning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shout out to Hozier.


	22. The Dawn Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MOAR SINGING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlaps with the Chapter in Of Fear & Lyrium with the same name (Ch 6)

The argument between the war council grew to the point it was unavoidable anywhere in camp. Everyone in the ravine could hear the anger in their voices if not the words themselves.

Higgins and Killeen drifted closer to the command tent, its sides lifted up to let in the sunshine now that the snow had finally stopped, to be at hand in case the Commander needed backup.

They shouted themselves out late in the afternoon, the four of them still standing near one another, but with a distance between them that was more mental than physical.

The Herald was just _there_ ; one minute she was still sick in bed and unreachable, and the next she was walking carefully into the command tent and leaning against a tent pole, obviously collecting her words to try to smooth over the conflict.

All four of the advisors – the Seeker, the Commander, the Ambassador, and the Spymaster – looked unbearably guilty for drawing the Herald from her rest. Before a single apology could be uttered or explanation mustered, the voice of Mother Giselle rose up from behind Trevelyan.

“Shadows fall and Hope has fled. Steel your heart, the dawn will come.”

The song was ancient – purportedly sung by Andraste and her followers, it predated the Chant.

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky for one day soon, the dawn will come.”

The entire camp seemed frozen. Mother Giselle had been working tirelessly to save their morale, their very souls, from the desolation they felt after the loss of Haven. Her voice was unmistakable to every member of the Inquistion, and her song – this song – was almost too much to take.

Another voice joined Mother Giselle in the second verse, and Higgins was astonished when he realized it was Sister Leliana. Her voice was high and sweet, a soprano counterpoint to Mother Giselle’s alto, and the name Nightingale never seemed more fitting.

“The shepherd’s lost and his home is far. Keep to the stars; the dawn will come.”

Something about Leliana’s voice made others lift theirs to join in. Killeen walked straight up to the war table, to be in the middle of it. Higgins found himself following her, trying to watch everything that happened while he raised his voice in song. Even the Commander joined by the next refrain.

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky for one day soon, the dawn will come.”

The smiths and the stablehands, kitchenstaff and servants, from the youngest page to the grizzled master all began to fall to their knees in front of the risen Herald. The soldiery knew better, but as one they clenched fists to their breasts and bowed their heads.

“Bear your blade and raise it high. Stand your ground. The dawn will come.”

Higgins watched the panic build on Evelyn’s features as men and women hit their knees before her, as soldiers and templars saluted, as every last member of the Inquisition recognized her as the coming dawn. Her gaze fell on Cullen, standing beside Higgins, and she calmed. Something about Cullen singing made everyone else’s adoration tolerable for her, and Higgins knew then that the Herald returned his Commander’s affections.

“The night is long and the path is dark. Look to the sky for one day soon, the dawn will come.”

There was a long moment as their echoing voices faded from the ravine, and Evelyn stood at their head and managed to not look terrified. Solas appeared at her shoulder and drew her away with him, and they were left standing around, feeling somewhat awkward but decidedly more united.

She was back before the crowd completely dispersed, dinner having been served shortly after the impromptu sing-a-long. She walked up to Leliana and Cullen and drew them to the war table. Higgins, still serving as Cullen’s runner, stood nearby and watched as the Herald was apparently convincing the Nightingale of something. Eventually Evelyn took Leliana by the shoulders and shook her gently.

“I need you to trust me,” Higgins heard over a lull in the dull roar of dinnertime camp noise. There were a few more words between the three of them, and then Evelyn was smiling and striding out towards the fire. “We’re going Home,” she said.

“Home?” Higgins asked her as steps drew her past him, and she seemed to freeze at his voice.

“Higgins?” She spun slowly, eyes widening as she recognized him. “Oh, thank the Maker, you made it out.”

He met with a complete loss of words, and managed to nod weakly.

She tilted her head, thinking hard, and then her smile drained off her face. “You’d said… at the gate… Glennon?”

“Lost. When the dragon took the trebuchet, ser.”

She dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish I had-“

“There was not one more thing anyone could have asked of you that night,” Higgins said, with enough force to surprise himself. “You gave more than you had, we all saw you do it. There is nothing – _nothing_ – you have to apologize for. Is that understood?”

Her chin snapped up at his tone. “Yes, ser,” she answered, eyes flashing.

“We don’t tolerate that bullshit in the Inquisition, Trevelyan,” he said, fighting to quash the sudden fear inspired by her gaze.

“I will seek to remember that in the future, Higgins,” she answered evenly. He was relieved to see a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I trust you are willing to remind me?”

Higgins shook his head. “I don’t think I have another one of those in me. Pardon me for saying as much, but you’re fucking terrifying.”

She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound echoing and rippling across the valley.

“Maker preserve me, I need more Higginses in my life,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist and drawing him with her towards the main fire. Higgins draped an arm across her shoulders and tried to relax into the role of _reminding the Herald she’s human_. He would do this with Killeen, surely, so he could take this walk with Trevelyan.

“Who else?” She said a moment later. “I know it has to be heartbreaking, still, but this is so much like before… you’ve all had days to come to grips with missing faces, and I’ve once again been asleep.”

“That sounds like a good habit to get into,” Higgins answered lightly. “I should like to try that, the next time something dreadful happens.”

“It has its perks,” she admitted, and then gave him a pointed look to remind him of her question.

“Brown,” he said first, and felt Evelyn wince.

“Is Killeen okay?” she asked immediately.

“She’s right there,” Higgins said carefully, pointing at the Lieutenant. Killeen seemed to feel she was being talking about and glanced around. When she saw Higgins and the Herald, she rolled her eyes comically. “Get a load of this asshole,” she said loud enough to be heard by easily twenty soldiers. Eyes were suddenly drilling into Higgins and he was painfully aware he was walking around companionably with the _Herald of bloody Andraste_. “Herald’s been up and about for two hours and already he’s hogging her.”

Evelyn laughed happily, gesturing for Killeen to come walk with them. “Higgins is giving me a tour of this fine mess we’re in, and is too much a gentleman to make me wobble about like a new lamb. Don’t begrudge me a shoulder to lean on!”

“He’s still ducking that promotion,” Killeen replied, declining the Herald’s offer, “so the lazy sod has nothing better to do. Run ‘im ragged, Trevelyan.”

With another happy laugh, Evelyn led Higgins away from the main fire.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said softly as they paced slowly into the darkness. “Killeen and Brown were-“

Higgins choked a bit in surprise. “How did you know about that? Killeen was sure nobody knew but the Commander.”

“Yet _you_ knew?”

“Once he died. I’m the only one she’s told. Mother Giselle has been encouraging us to talk to one another…”

Evelyn nodded. “I wandered around Haven a lot, in the evenings. I’ve always been more an owl than a dove, always more comfortable at night than in the harsh light of day. They were careful – very careful, I give them that. But I saw him coming out of her tent one night, heard her humming inside after he was gone. Even if it was a one-time thing, which I am confident it was _not_ , that sort of loss… is hard to overcome.”

“I have to tell her, you know,” Higgins said insistently. “I will not keep that from her.”

Evelyn pulled back slightly to look up at him, brow furrowed. “You two have grown close?”

Higgins shook his head. “Not like you might think. We are… I don’t know how to explain it. She understands me. We trust each other. I know she values my opinion. We’re friends, as much as a soldier and his Lieutenant can be.”

“Get promoted, then. Be equals.”

Higgins shook his head. “I’m not the paperwork type.”

“As you wish,” she said, dropping the topic. “Brown and Glennon lost. Who else?”

“Hundreds.”

“Who else that I _knew_? Who else that I might break someone’s heart by asking for or mentioning?”

“Hendricks,” Higgins answered immediately.

“Noted. Any other officers?”

“No. Rylen, Tamson, Killeen and Roz are all alive and well. The templar officers – Eamon and Delrin – both seem to be hale as well. I am unfamiliar with the templars for the most part. But you should know about Hendricks…”

“You mentioned.”

“No. Hendricks didn’t die in Haven. Hendricks made it almost all the way to our shelter that first night, and then fell on his sword in the snow. Cole found him.”

Evelyn gasped, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “No! No. Why? Why would… Why?”

“Hendricks was on duty when the attack came. He had essentially given his company the night off to celebrate the closing of the Breach. When we got into that first camp, during the blizzard, many of us believed you dead. Hendricks blamed himself for the loss of Haven, but also for the loss of _you_ , that our only escape was bought with your life.”

“Maker, take him to Your side,” she whispered. Higgins felt the hairs go up on his neck at the Herald praying.

“Here, this the farthest fire from the command, yes?” she said, coming to a stop.

“Yes, ser,” Higgins answered. She pulled away from him and walked into the firelight.

“Hello!” she said brightly. She was met with open shock and complete silence. She faltered, taking a half-step back into a defensive stance.

Higgins quickly strode up beside her. She’d surprised this group badly, and Higgins saw they were mostly recruits and templars, no one with much history with the Herald. He scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

“Eamon!” he said, gesturing to the templar Lieutenant. “Have you met the Herald? She’s trying to stretch her legs and touch base with the Inquisition.”

Eamon quickly stood and hurried over to them. He was sweating, Higgins noticed wryly, but Eamon was a leader and knew it would fall to him to interact with the powers-that-be when it came down to it.

“Templar-Lieutenant Eamon, I am pleased to introduce you to our most worshipful lady Evelyn Trevelyan,” Higgins said, stepping lightly to the side to avoid the elbow Evelyn directed at his ribs.

“Ser, this is Templar-Lieutenant Eamon, one of the templars you are most likely to have to put up with on a daily basis.”

“It is good to see you up and about… ser,” Eamon said, following Higgins’ lead in addressing the Herald.

“Don’t tell Aieyla you’ve seen me,” she said in a comically loud whisper. “She’s kept me prisoner for a day and a half, now. Don’t make me go back!”

Eamon laughed, his surprise overcoming his discomfort. “Anyone who has met Aieyla would believe it,” he concurred.

Evelyn shifted into a more even stance, and Higgins allowed himself to drift away a bit.

“Eamon… are you named for the old Arl of Redcliffe, then?”

Eamon grimaced. “I am, ser.”

“There are worse things to be named for, I am sure. Is that look because you’re sick of hearing about it?”

“Yes, ser,” Eamon said, mollified. “I… I would rather have a name that didn’t immediately make everyone think of somebody else.”

Evelyn grunted. “That’s utterly reasonable.”

Eamon blinked. “Well… yes. Thank you, ser.”

There was a low murmur building around the fire, and it cut off instantly when Evelyn pitched her voice to carry. “We are leaving in the morning. The Commander will be sending the order down soon, I’m sure, but now you won’t be surprised when you hear it. The Inquisition needs a home, and to find it we are heading North, through the mountains. Be prepared for a shitty walk tomorrow.”

The response she received was mixed between nervous laughter and trepidation.

“What is to the north?” a templar asked, her voice breaking anxiously.

“Home,” the Herald said. “You’ll believe me when we get there.”

She waved, then; an awkward little goodbye, before turning to Higgins and indicating it was time to go. Higgins offered her his arm – noticing how unstable she was on her feet – and she accepted it graciously.

“Do not let me fall in the snow,” she whispered to him as they made their way to the next fire. “I never want to land face first in snow again for the rest of my life if I can help it.”

“What was it you said?” Higgins asked. “The morning you scared the life out of Aieyla, you said you were becoming known for your ‘spectacular entrances and undignified exits,’ I think it was.”

Evelyn laughed happily at the memory. “Yes! I think I may have mixed them up this time. A very undignified entrance.”

“I have seen most of them,” Higgins argued, “and you appearing at the top of the hill in the darkness was definitely spectacular.”

“You were with the Commander that night, too?”

Higgins nodded. “I ended up the Commander’s runner by default. I was the last one to reach shelter, as I was assisting the Seeker on the path and we fell behind. That left me in a prime location to eavesdrop over the last few days.”

Evelyn laughed again, a sound that was quickly overtaking Killeen’s laugh as Higgins’ favorite. “Hear anything good?”

“Killeen and I heard you talking last night, when you awoke. That might have been the best thing either of us ever heard.”

“Flatterer,” she said, as they approached the next campfire.

Higgins scoffed. “The rumor going around camp was that Andraste had only kept you alive long enough to reach the camp and give us a message about our foe, and now that you’d been Her _Herald_ you had succumbed to the cold. So, yes, hearing that you were actually alive was _wonderful_.”

Evelyn scrunched her nose. “I really need to find a way to nip this _Herald_ bullshit in the bud.”

“Don’t let Killeen hear you say that,” he said.

“Don’t let Killeen hear you say _what_?” Killeen asked, standing up from where she’d been seated near the fire with Sera and Varric. Sera was at their side in an instant and she elbowed Higgins neatly out of the way to sweep Evelyn into the air and around in a quick circle.

“Miss me?” the Herald asked.

“Oh, you foolish… suicidal… lucky… ridiculous… AUGH,” Sera replied, pulling her friend close for a crushing hug. “Although the sight of you in yer knickers cuttin’ up lady metalbritches will keep me in fantasy material for _months_ , thank yeh kindly.”

Evelyn blushed as Sera put her down. “Let’s not bring that up again, shall we?”

“Hiding from Aieyla?” Killeen asked. “She was just here looking for you…”

Evelyn blanched. “Not _exactly_ …. I’m spreading the good news. We’re heading out in the morning. Expect the order to come down from the Commander. We’re heading north, farther into the mountains. It’ll be a shitty walk.”

Killeen grunted. “I should go report in, then,” she said, settling her armor in place and heading towards the command tent.

“If the Commander’s looking for me-“ Higgins called to her back.

“Oh, I will _definitely_ tell him what you’re up to,” she called back. It sounded like a threat.

They made to it every campfire that night. Evelyn was wilting like a cut flower by the time they finally turned toward her tent.

“I have so much to do…” she said, half to herself. She staggered a step and Higgins put out a hand to catch her. While she murmured her thanks, he turned, dipped a shoulder into her waist, and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Noooooooo,” she protested, pounding on him with her fists. “Don’t you _dare_ , there are too many witnesses!”

“Those same witnesses thought you were _dead_ not too long ago. Everybody knows you’d lose a fight to a kitten tonight.”

“Higgins, you _put me down_ this _instant_.”

Higgins sighed. “No.”

“WHAT?”

“I said no. You want to be treated like a person? Like a friend? This is what friends do.”

“Higgins,” she started again, the threat in her voice plain.

“Look, I know I said you were fucking terrifying, and I meant it. You’re scaring the shit out of me right now. But frankly I am far more afraid of the Commander and Aieyla, and they’d have my guts on a spit in a minute flat if they saw the way you were walking just then.”

“Higgins, I swear-“

“You swear _what_?” Aieyla’s voice cut into her tirade. The Herald audibly swallowed, and Higgins had to fight back a laugh.

“Where in the Maker’s name have you _been?”_ the diminuitive elf started in on Evelyn, gesturing for Higgins to continue in the direction he’d been walking. Aieyla fell into step behind him, and tore into the suddenly-silent Herald the rest of the way back to her tent. Cullen came out of the command tent as they passed, seeing Evelyn draped over Higgins’ shoulder, but when he heard Aieyla’s voice his stormy expression cleared and he backed up without a word.

When they reached the Herald’s one-person tent, Higgins moved the flap open with the Herald’s feet and leaned over to set her down inside. He stayed bowed over as he backed out of her tent. Aieyla stormed past him, only stopping her tirade long enough to sweetly thank Higgins and wish him a pleasant night.

“My pleasure,” Higgins answered. “Good night, ser. Good night, Aieyla.”

There was a pleading look on Evelyn’s face as the tent flap swung closed, and Higgins returned to the command tent with alacrity as Aieyla’s voice dropped into a dangerously low tone.

“Was it wise to take her to _every_ campfire tonight? In the cold, given her condition?” Commander Cullen asked archly as Higgins entered.

“Not my call, ser,” Higgins replied easily. “Have you ever tried arguing with her? I figured it was easier to let her have her way and stay close for when she wore out. Let Aieyla take her to task.”

Cullen stared at him for a moment, before a smile slowly spread over his features. “A cunning tactic, Higgins. Commendable.”

“Any orders, ser?”

Cullen shook his head. “Word has already been carried around camp regarding our departure in the morning. Thanks to your walkabout with the Herald, the otherwise ridiculous command was accepted without question.”

“Ridiculous?” Higgins asked.

“She hasn’t actually told anybody what exactly she’s leading us towards.”

Higgins thought back to the dozens of conversations he’d heard Evelyn have with the soldiers that night. Not once did she tell them where they were going.

“No, ser, I guess you’re right. She just said we’d believe her when we got there.”

“If this is a test of our Faith, we are passing admirably,” Cullen said sourly.


	23. Skyhold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our survivors find and settle into their new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...plus a bonus scene between Evelyn  &; Cullen not shown in OF&L

She was immediately proven right in one way: the walk was, indeed, shitty.

The snow was deep and powdery, and the route through the mountains followed no road. There wasn’t even a game trail this high up, just winding passes between rocky crags and precipitous ravines.

The Inquisition started late and stopped early, the work of unpacking and repacking everything they possessed taking up precious time. Leliana’s scouts led the way, ranging far and wide to find the best routes to the north, ever north. The soldiers and templars marched at the rear of the column, mingling freely as the line between the two groups blurred.

On the third day, they encountered an ancient road. Their travel suddenly became easier as they walked along flagstones incredibly clear of snow and ice, and they covered twice as much distance as the day before.

Just as the sun reached its zenith on the fourth day of their trek through the mountains, the Herald scrambled to the top of boulder and gazed happily down into a deep valley that opened up in front of them. As the first of the refugees caught up to her, she turned and gestured expansively at the vista before her. “Home!” she said, grandly.

Higgins was some way behind, but he heard the word and saw her gesture. She was still standing on the boulder, now joined by Solas, Cullen, and Cassandra, when Higgins reached the lip of the valley.

There was no word for the keep that stood over the water at the bottom of the massive bowl before him. _Impenetrable_ just wasn’t strong enough. The wide plain containing a frozen lake held more than enough room for their forces to grow, more than twice the space they had in Haven. There was an obvious supply of water, as a glacier broke across the eastern lip of the valley and the sun’s rays drove a waterfall of icemelt down the base of the keep itself.

“Right again, Trevelyan,” Killeen called up to the exultant Herald.

Evelyn grinned down at them as they began their descent into the valley.

Their entire remaining force could fit inside the castle proper, and so for one night the entire Inquisition slept inside the great fortress of Skyhold. The army was to begin the move outside the next day, clearing snow down to bare earth and finding solid ground for tents and campfires. It was sure to be colder here than in Haven, as they were much higher in the mountains, and a requisition was immediately put in for heating pans as part of the standard gear issue. Harritt needed ore before any smithing could be done, and so the list of things to do began to grow.

Chancellor Roderick had died in the camp, the rumor holding that he breathed his last when he heard the voices of the Inquisition raised in song. They brought his body to Skyhold, and lit his pyre on the top of one of the guardtowers, unfurling black cloth from the salvaged stores to hang from the parapets. Roderick’s death was used as a way to mourn for everyone at Haven.

The Orlesians in the Inquisition believed in always embracing the _bittersweet_ in life. A wedding or other joyous event is acknowledged with sober contemplation and prayer, while funerals and great defeats are met with raucous celebration. The honoring of Roderick and the losses of Haven was determined to be cause for music and dancing. It didn’t take much to convince those who weren’t Orlesian, as finding Skyhold and _surviving_ were reason enough for anyone to party.

Cullen took volunteers – Higgins and Killeen among the first to step forward – to sweep the castle for any hidden dangers and stand on watch over the revelry. No one who had survived Haven would ever again rest on their laurels.

Evelyn stepped in and banned the guards from the bowels of the Keep, insisting she and her team would find and neutralize any threats. The argument she had with Cullen was a glory to behold. Higgins stood between Killeen and Eamon, backs hard against the cold stone walls of the keep, and watched wide-eyed as the diminuitive Trevelyan _raged_ at the Commander, who bullishly refused to yield any ground. She was not yet well enough to be risked, he insisted. She and her team were the only ones trained in clearing ancient ruins, she countered. She jabbed a finger in his chest, he stood impassive. She ran her hands through her hair, leaving it even more disheveled than usual. He crossed his arms across his chest and flatly refused to react.

“Fine. Stop me if you can,” she said at last, and turned on her heel.

Cullen hesitated only a second before taking two swift steps and grabbing the back of her armor with a gauntleted hand, lifting her up so her toes only barely grazed the floor.

Higgins hissed in a breath as he and Killeen tried to melt into the wall. Eamon nudged him, and Higgins cracked open an eye, fully expecting to see his Commander being sucked into a rift, and instead saw the Herald heroically stifling a laugh while Cullen looked like a man holding a particularly poisonous snake.

“Your point is made, Commander,” she said stiffly, and Cullen gently lowered her to the ground.

There was silence again, while she slowly turned back to him, and he reassumed the stoic, arms-crossed position he’d held previously.

She drew a deep breath. “What if I take Bull and a handful of the Chargers with us, rather than only Sera, Varric, and Cole?”

Cullen blinked, but otherwise didn’t express the surprise he must have felt. “That would be a more favorable alternative,” he admitted. He would rather she not be part of the process at all, but this was the only compromise they were likely to find.

“Very well. I will send you a report of our findings,” she said, and gracefully swept from the room.

Higgins slid down the wall to land loudly on his ass on the floor.

“You’re… _insane_ , ser,” he said to the Commander.

For his part, Cullen rubbed a hand roughly against the back of neck and laughed – _laughed_ – his agreement. “Maker, you might be right. I convinced her, in the end, so it appears to have been worth the risk.” He leaned heavily on the wall across the ruined hallway from the three witnesses, glancing down at the heavy wooden door at the end. “They want to use that room for our councils, call it the war room. It seems it is off to a fine start.”

Killeen was chuckling, while Eamon seemed eager to disappear. Higgins slowly picked himself up off the floor.

“Orders, ser?” Killeen asked.

“Yes…” Cullen started, but stopped. “Actually. Before that. You could all see her face when I – when I _scruffed_ her like a cat. Maker, she should have killed me for it. She might, still. How angry was she?”

Killeen and Eamon exchanged glances, but Higgins answered without hesitation. “She was laughing, ser. Or doing her damndest not to. You, on the other hand, looked like you’d found a snake in your boots.”

Three jaws dropped as their owners stared at Higgins. Killeen and Eamon couldn’t believe he’d actually said it, while Cullen…

“Laughing?” Cullen said, shocked. “She was _laughing_? She made a sound like a cornered cat, and you say she was _laughing_?”

“Yes, ser. I think you surprised her, ser.”

Cullen palmed his forehead. “ _Laughing_ ,” he said again. “Maker’s breath.”

“You said something about orders, ser?” Higgins prompted him, and Cullen was shaken out of his reverie.

“Yes, of course. Killeen, once the report comes back from the castle sweep, we’ll need to focus on getting everyone settled in for the evening. Try to make the assignments logical – put the kitchen staff near the kitchens, the smiths near the smithy - the less rearranging we have to do in the days to come, the better.”

As he rattled off a chain of commands, the work of converting Skyhold into the home of the Inquistion beginning that very night, Higgins and Killeen exchanged a long look. Whatever was transpiring between the Commander and the Herald, Cullen at least was clueless.

 

*

 

The next morning, while the Inquisition was still intact inside its new home, the reluctant Herald was handed a great dragon-hilted sword and named the first Inquisitor in 800 years. Higgins stood with Dorian and Eamon in the crowd, chuckling amongst themselves as they could see Evelyn arguing with Cassandra.

“You have already given everything to this cause,” Dorian read Cassandra’s lips for them. “What is one more title?”

Higgins laughed a little harder as Evelyn’s answer was clear. “Nope, I read her reply just fine by myself, thank you.”

Eamon was clearly shocked. “She has the mouth of a soldier,” he said, shaking his head.

“You have no idea,” Higgins assured him. “Just wait until the first time you hear her take Andraste’s name in vain.”

“If you ask me to lead you,” Evelyn’s voice rang out over the crowd, “You should know what I would lead you to. It is not a simple goal for us, not with what we have already survived, have already overcome. We have sealed the hole in the sky; now we must find the creature that created it and _put him down_. We must find justice for Divine Justinia, who was _stolen_ from us. We must have _vengeance_ for those lost at the Conclave, for those lost at Haven, for every soul lost in this war. And when we have that… then, we will set about bringing Peace and Justice back to a world gone mad.”

“Have our people been told?” Cassandra’s voice called out.

“They have!” Josephine called back, from somewhere in the crowd. “And soon, the world.”

“Commander! Will they follow?”

Cullen strode to the front of the crowd, then, and repeated the question. Higgins felt his chest rattle with the response.

“Will you fight?” Another roar. “Will we triumph?” The answer was enough to shake loose pebbles off the ramparts.

“Your leader!” Cullen cried, drawing his sword. “Your Herald! Your Inquisitor!”

Evelyn lifted her sword in answer, as the Inquisition thundered its response. From where Higgins was standing, she and the Commander had eyes for only each other.

 

*

 

“I’ve found something for you,” Mahvrin said late that evening, as he and Aieyla were helping Evelyn settle into her temporary quarters in the second floor of the gatehouse.

“I’ve told you, any racist pricks are turned over directly to Sera,” Evelyn replied with a laugh from where she sat at her desk, leaning over a stack of letters Aieyla was either forcing her to write or had written for her and was requiring her to sign.

“No, this is something specifically for you,” Mahvrin countered. “Well, not for _you_ , but… will you come?”

Evelyn lifted the quill questioningly at Aieyla. For her part, Mahvrin’s wife only hesitated for a moment before giving her permission.

“A reprieve!” Evelyn laughed, and she darted out of the room with Mahvrin on her heels.

Once she was out of Aieyla’s immediate reach, Evelyn waved for Mahvrin to take the lead.

They crossed the courtyard, Evelyn avoiding three separate people who wanted to talk to her by promising to stop on her way back through. “I am currently engaged, but you’re on my list,” she said, and Mahvrin felt a broad smile settle in place. Surely the surgeon’s concerns would outweigh his, but the Herald treated everyone as equals.

Largely because she craved that treatment for herself.

Mahvrin led her up the stairs to the second level of the courtyard, then up again to the main floor of the Keep. The first door on the left took them into the garden, but rather than walk amongst the plants, Mahvrin kept them on the sheltered walkway that hugged the walls of the keep. He passed several doors before stopping at one and gesturing for Evelyn to enter.

With a confused smile, Evelyn opened the door and gasped.

It was a shrine to Andraste – derelict and dusty, but unmistakable.

“How…?”

“Aieyla said you had taken a lot of comfort in prayer, those last few days in Haven,” Mahvrin said carefully. “If you find yourself in need of the same comfort, I wanted you to have it available.”

Evelyn’s eyes were flooded with unshed tears. “Thank you. I know you didn’t build this, or maybe even find it… but thank you for making sure I knew it was here. That is… that is unspeakably kind of you.”

Mahvrin lightly touched his fingertips to his heart. “It was my pleasure, Inquisitor.”

“I didn’t change my name, you know,” she said absently as she gazed up at the stony visage of Andraste.

Mahvrin shook his head, smiling. “I know, Evelyn. It is… still hard.”

She reached out a hand to him, and he quickly took it, letting her gently squeeze his fingers.

“I have three stops to make on the way back,” she said after a moment. “And I might stay here for just a little while. Go distract Aieyla for me?”

Mahvrin laughed, then – something he was finding easier to do every day – and agreed. With one last quick squeeze of her hand, they broke apart. He walked out into the soft turf of the garden rather than following the walkway, and at the last minute he looked over his shoulder to see Evelyn falling to her knees at Andraste’s feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted from my beach vacation. Technology is THE BEST.


	24. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Higgins is forced to face Glennon's death.
> 
> Graphic. 
> 
> This is not a feel-good chapter.
> 
> You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * * WARNING * * *  
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF A CHARACTER DEATH  
> * * * WARNING * * *  
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A PTSD-TYPE FLASHBACK  
> * * * WARNING * * *
> 
> I have the worst of it isolated in the middle of the chapter if you need to skip it.  
> Remember: I am the wife of a combat vet and a nurse. This will be BAD.

Those who had been on duty at the Inquisition camps in the Storm Coast, the Hinterlands, and the Fallow Mire had no idea where Skyhold was, and had no way to send for help until ravens trained to Skyhold could be sent to them. Harding had set out for the Storm Coast, while Evelyn led the escort to both the more southern regions, intending to send the Fallow Mire resupply on its way from Redcliffe.

“You’re a waste as a runner,” Cullen said without preamble the morning after the Inquisitor left for the Hinterlands.

“Ser?” Higgins asked, surprised.

“You’re far and away the most popular soldier in the Inquisition. You have a rapport with the Inquisitor that is invaluable. You’re experienced, and sadly one of the most veteran men we have left, having been with us through both the destruction of the Conclave and the loss of Haven.” Cullen kept his eyes to the balance sheet on the desk in front him, double-checking his entries as he spoke. “And yet rather than leading men or taking a position in one of the companies, you’re here as my _runner_. I trusted you with the duty on our flight from Haven, but now? Now it is a waste of your potential. We have need for two – if not three or more – Lieutenants. You are far and away the best candidate for the job.”

“I don’t want it, ser,” Higgins said reflexively.

“Dare I ask why?”

“Paperwork,” he answered.

“Bullshit. You’re _running_. The only thing you see right now is paperwork.”

Higgins swallowed roughly. The answer had been enough, until now.

“I never led, ser,” he answered after a long pause in which Cullen finally set his quill aside to watch him struggle. “Glennon recruited me to come a’soldiering with him, and I followed him. We joined the Inquisition at the Conclave, and then I was Glennon’s equal but we followed Brownie or Killer. I was a younger sibling, the youngest son, and I’ve never been responsible for anybody but me.”

“You were essentially in charge in the Hinterlands-“

“And what happened?” Higgins interrupted. “We four were captured, I nearly died and rather than lead the escape, I had to be rescued? That’s not anything to recommend me, ser.”

Cullen watched him over tented fingertips. “Very well. You should know that the next choice is Jenson, who flatly refused the assignment, stating she couldn’t be Lieutenant over _you_. So your refusal costs me _two_ officers.”

“I’m sorry, ser, but I’m not responsible for her decisions. That’s why I don’t want to be an officer.”

“Due to the influx of recruits and the _massively_ different needs of Skyhold as compared to Haven, the role of _runner_ will be added to the guard rotation, rather than being its own position. If you are not taking over one of the companies, you will need to be assigned to one.”

“Will Killeen take me?” Higgins asked immediately.

Cullen laughed. “In a word, yes. Her own language was markedly stronger, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Higgins smiled, still shaken by the encounter with the Commander. “Shall I report to her now, then?”

“If you would like. I have no immediate need. Runners as guard rotation will begin with the next Bell.”

“Ser,” Higgins said, saluting as he fled the Commander’s office.

He found Killeen in the encampment, her newly requisitioned, smaller and heavier, one-person tent only vaguely reminiscent of the tents the Lieutenants used in Haven. Ingrid had been the requisition officer in charge of the new tents, and she had been particularly fond of Glennon during their rotation through the Hinterlands. She had been devastated when she’d learned Glennon was lost in Haven, and gave Higgins a one-man tent meant for an officer rather than force him to find a new roommate.

Higgins had set his tent up next to Killeen’s, neither of them caring whether Higgins ended up in her company or not. The moment in the snow as they fled Haven had solidified them as inseparable friends.

“Ser,” Higgins said as he walked up to Killeen and snapped a fist to his chest. “Commander tells me I’ve been assigned to your company. Reporting for duty.”

“About fucking time,” Killeen said, not rising from the fire. “We had First this morning, slacker, Second tomorrow. You want one of the runner spots?”

“I won’t turn it down. If nothing else, you can use me to teach everyone else what’s expected in the role.”

“Deal. I’ll rotate everyone through it with you, and you can show them the ropes.”

Higgins threw himself to the ground beside Killeen. “I don’t want it, Killer.”

“Don’t want what?” she asked.

“Leadership. Responsibility. If somebody dies, I never want it to be because of something I did or did not do.”

Killeen snorted. “Even if you took the step up, we're so far down the ladder we would be nameless in any other organization. I only have any say because the Inquisitor was literally sent by the Maker.”

“Tell me you don’t feel responsible for any of the deaths at Haven.”

“Tell me _you_ don’t.” she retorted, and Higgins just shook his head. “Tell me you don’t feel responsible for Glennon,” she pressed. “Say it.”

“Fuck you, Killeen.”

“How is it any different?” 

Higgins shook his head again.

“Whatever,” Killeen sighed. “You could do it. You could probably do it better than I could. But I’m glad you didn’t. It’s a weight off my shoulders to know you’ve got my back.”

Higgins reached across to lightly punch Killeen in the thigh. “Right back atcha, Killer.”

“Speaking of backsides, we need to get back into training. Got a lot of rust to work off, haven’t taken my sword out since Haven. Training field is set up, care to join me? Gotta see what you’re capable of without Glennon to hide behind.”

“Go easy,” Higgins complained. “He’s dead, alright? No need to beat me over the head with it.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Nuggins.”

She bumped shoulders with him as they trudged up to the training ring – or tried to, as her shoulder barely cleared his elbow.

Dorian, who hadn’t gone to the Hinterlands with the Inquisitor since Solas had something he wanted to look into and volunteered for the trip, was standing on the stairs leading up to the gatehouse and calling down to the accumulated soldiers in the training field. The Iron Bull was leading some kind of special exercise.

“Get in here, you both need this,” the qunari called as Higgins and Killeen drew near.

“Need what?” Killeen asked as they automatically fell into line.

“Desensitization,” Bull answered easily. “We need to figure out how badly you were all shaken up over what happened at Haven before somebody gets the surprise of their life and people get killed.”

The Iron Bull raised a fist to point at Dorian. All eyes swiveled up to the Tevinter, perched some distance away, as he put his hands together….

Higgins could feel his heart start to pound as the fire left Dorian’s hands. He was instantly coated in sweat. He fought for breath as Bull tucked and rolled gently to the side as the fireball exploded into the ground where he had been standing mere seconds before.

Higgins’ vision flared red.

 

*

 

 

Glennon’s eyes were red, the whites completely blown out from the concussion. The shrapnel in his back had pierced through every critical organ, one piece up under his helmet to shatter the base of his skull. Brain matter oozed onto Higgins’ hands as he vainly felt for a pulse. The smell of burning flesh – Glennon’s flesh, _burning_ – filled his nose, causing his stomach to spasm and his teeth to clench in order to keep the contents where they belonged. There were other bodies, everywhere, chunks of people falling around him like hailstones as the dragon lifted them into the air and shredded them. As Higgins slid Glennon’s shield off his arm, the gauntlet, glove beneath, and all the skin on the hand came off with it. Glennon’s muscles were a mess with blood already congealing in the heat of dragonfire. Gobbets of fat and gore stuck to his armor as he pulled off Glennon’s necklace and strung it over her head, inadvertently smearing Glennon’s blood, _Karl Glennon’s blood_ , on his face and neck like he was some kind of blood mage.

 

*

 

 

“HIGGINS,” Killeen was calling his name, and he looked up to find her hands on his shoulders, shaking him, her eyes terrified and _close_ , closer than she had ever been. Higgins blinked and leaned back, seeing the bright daylight and pristine snow on the mountains behind Killeen’s harried expression.

“Flashback,” the Iron Bull rumbled from somewhere nearby, and Higgins glanced around him.

The training ground. The fireball. Higgins’ hands suddenly felt filthy, the memory of his best friend’s remains on his skin turning his stomach as he started to scoop up snow and scrub it roughly against his palms and the skin of his face and neck.

Higgins wasn’t the only one affected. He gradually became aware of a few piles of vomit in the snow and the distinct sounds of a man crying. He had to think for a minute until he was sure it wasn’t him.

“I saw…” he started, and felt the bile rise up behind his teeth.

“Glennon?” Killeen offered.

Higgins nodded against clenched teeth.

“Fireball kill him?” Bull asked. Higgins nodded again. “You see it happen?” Another nod.

“Get him someplace dry and warm,” Bull said, now to Killeen. “If he wants to talk, let him. If he doesn’t, don’t make him. Don’t let him drink. Don’t let him do anything remotely harmful to himself. He needs calm and quiet.”

The qunari turned back to Higgins, resting a huge hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “Nobody should see what you saw, man. Nobody. That sort of thing would fuck _anybody_ up, you hear me? I would be more worried if you _weren’t_ fucked up over your best friend dying the way it happened. We’ll get you past this, but it’s going to take some time. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you, ser,” Higgins choked out, still fighting the urge to vomit.

“When you feel steadier, you come and find me. There’s ways to get rid of the flashbacks, they have to do it a lot for those that served in Seheron. We’ll get you through it, soldier.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.”

“Come on, Nuggins,” Killeen said, hoisting Higgins out of the snow.

They’d only taken two steps away when Dorian came running into the training field.

“Are you alright?” he said, striding directly to Higgins.

Higgins shook his head. “Doin’ my best not to puke.”

“Move aside if you value your shoes,” Killeen grunted. Dorian swung his head under Higgins’ other arm and helped haul him back to his tent.

“Hey!” Bull called to them as they walked away. “’Vint, get back up there! Round two!”

“Sorry,” Dorian called over his shoulder in a completely insincere tone. “I’ve had my fill of tormenting perfectly decent men today. You’ll have to find some other sadist for the rest of the afternoon!”

The Iron Bull started up a low rumble of curses and followed them to Higgins’ tent.

“It’s not tormenting them, ‘Vint, it’s diagnosing who here needs help. They need to know _now_ , before they get into battle and have it surprise them. You want reactions like that on the battlefield?”

“I would rather not cause reactions like that at _all_ , thank you very much,” Dorian replied. “If you can’t find a better way to diagnose psychological trauma then you need to reassess how you're investing your time.”

“Oh? And how would you go about it?”

Dorian slipped out from under Higgins’ arm and turned the full force of his glare on Bull. “I could have _told you_ that Higgins was affected. His mood and mannerisms are different, he isn’t sleeping well, he’s clearly beset by nightmares. You don’t have to induce a full episode to realize he’s troubled.”

“You must be spending a lot of time in the soldiers’ encampment to notice that. You a regular medic now, ‘Vint?”

“No,” Killeen said, coming to Dorian’s defense. “I told him. I was worried about Higgins.”

Bull looked between the two of them and grunted. “That’s all well and good for _him_ , but what about everybody else?”

“We start a sweep,” Killeen answered. “We’ve got the list of everybody who survived Haven, Josephine took it down that first night. We go through the whole list and we _talk_ to people. Just like Mother Giselle told us to.”

“And then,” Dorian said, before Bull could speak up, “we give them the option. Come to you for _deprogramming_ , or see Solas for a reasonable course of treatment.”

“You’re speaking for the elf now?”

“No,” Dorian met Bull’s stare easily. “I’m speaking for a _decent man_.”

Dorian turned and went into Higgins’ tent, leaving Killeen and Bull standing awkwardly outside while the mage and the soldier began talking softly.

“I have to report all this to the Commander,” Killeen said with a sigh.

“I’ll do it,” Bull covered her shoulder with one huge hand. “Stay here with your man.”

“My friend,” Killeen correctly easily.

Bull nodded. “Your friend, then,” he agreed, and walked away.

“No, I’m complete rubbish at it,” Dorian was saying to Higgins as Killeen ducked under the tent flap. The tent was far too small for three people, even just standing, so she stayed outside and poked her head through. Higgins was sitting limply on the side of his cot, head in his hands, Dorian half-crouched beside him with a hand on his shoulder.

“So, I need to talk to Solas? Have him mess with my dreams?”

“We need to talk to Solas, regardless, when he returns,” Dorian answered. “This many people having nightmares about the same incident is a recipe for demonic interference. We’re not sure what causes a rift to open – maybe that could? We definitely don’t need a rift opening up in the encampment while the Inquisitor is away.”

Higgins grunted. “Lovely.”

“What I’m saying is there’s a lot more going on than you having watched your friend be brutally murdered. Which, grant you, is plenty terrible in and of itself; that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying this is bigger than you, and you need to be sure you don’t personalize it.”

“You’re saying it’s not my fault,” Higgins clarified.

Killeen snorted. “Good soldier, keep it simple. Not your fault, Higgins. We’ll figure out how to make it stop and get you through it. Nobody’s mad at you, it’s not your fault, and you’re sure as hell not alone.”

“Thanks, Lieut,” Higgins said. “Thanks, Dorian.”

Dorian ruffled Higgins’ hair. “You’re a lot like Evelyn, you know that?”

Higgins looked up at Dorian in shock. “Say what?”

“Adorable. Universally adored, even. You treat everyone around you with the exact same respect and courtesy. It’s no wonder she values you. Maybe you’ll reconsider the Commander’s offer for a promotion?”

“Lemme get my head on straight, first,” Higgins said, helpless to process the compliment Dorian had just given him.

“I’m in the library if you need me,” Dorian said to them both as he moved past Killeen and took his leave.

“Nuggins…”

“I kind of just want to sleep it off, Killer. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Killeen answered. “Its okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is raining today, so my beach vacation has moved inside. I feel I need to tell you that I had this posted as a draft before I left, and the lack of sunshine did not influence this chapter.


	25. On Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of lightness between two rather dark chapters

“What did you know of Lieutenant Brown?” Cullen asked Higgins the next day, as the runner-in-training for the hour, a ‘Marcher by the name of Crews, left to request an accounting of arms and armaments from the new Quartermaster.

“Not much, honestly,” Higgins said with a shrug. “We didn’t talk about who were before the Inquisition.”

“Antivan, he said, but without the accent or associated surname,” Cullen said, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the flat of his right hand. “Killeen has been as forthcoming as she can, but all she could relate was that the men of Brown’s family had a fondness for Antivan women. Implying he was raised elsewhere, and explaining the family name.”

“Did Killeen not know where he grew up? No next of kin?”

Cullen gave him a shrewd stare. “Why would Killeen have that information?”

Higgins rolled his eyes. “If Killeen herself hadn’t told me, the Inquisitor did. She had to talk to _somebody_ when he died, ser.”

Cullen’s eyes widened almost comically. “The Inquisitor told you? About Lieutenant Killeen and Lieutenant Brown?”

Higgins shrugged. “When she woke up, in Haven – the night I escorted her to all the campfires, and Aieyla tore her a new asshole-“ Higgins fell silent with a hard gulp as the Commander’s eyes narrowed sharply. “She, uh, she was worried about Killeen, ser, when I was telling her about casualties I knew. Admitted she was, how’d she say it, “more owl than dove,” and she liked to be out at night. Fits with what her Father told me about her, too. Anyhow, she said she saw Brownie coming out of Killer’s tent one night… and, well. Killeen said she’d asked your permission, so I’m sure you don’t need particulars, not as I have ‘em.”

Cullen tented his hands in front of him on his desk, leaning his chin onto outstretched thumbs.  
“First,” he said, examining Higgins as the soldier squirmed, “when we are done here you are to go to Sister Leliana and request anything she has on Lieutenant Daniel Brown. Date and location of birth, next of kin, anything. I’m sure she had the man vetted the second I put him forward as a Lieutenant.”

Higgins nodded. “Yes, ser. Of course, ser.”

“Second. Explain to me what you meant when you said, _fits with what her Father told you about her_. You had a conversation with Lord Trevelyan about our Herald?”

Higgins relaxed minutely. “I did, ser. Glennon and I were looking for work, having been released from the Bann we’d signed on with to escort his family to and from the Landsmeet in Denerim. I heard that a Lord from the Free Marches was looking for foreigners – anyone from not in the ‘Marches, really – to follow his daughter. Sounded like a good job, so I took Glennon and we met with him, right there in Highever.”

Cullen leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable. Higgins considered himself blameless in this retelling, however, and was unconcerned by the Commander’s rapt attention.

“We expected to meet with a recruiter or a Seneshal, so imagine our surprise when it was the Lord, himself, sitting in a tavern in Highever talking to men-at-arms. He was looking for someone who would blend in with the crowd and not be spotted by his daughter, as she knew everyone with two legs and a decent sword arm in Ostwick, and he was sure the group she’d fallen in with would be able to identify any sellsword from the Free Marches; if any of them could be pulled out of the chaos in Kirkwall, that was. Seems his daughter was escaping at night, getting into trouble, and he was wanting to find out her whereabouts _before_ she was arrested, rather than after, so he could either keep the Guard away from her or get her out of lockup before anybody else knew she was there.”

“So Lord Trevelyan of Ostwick wanted to hire you to follow his daughter? And he specifically stated which daughter?”

“Yes, ser. His youngest child, Evelyn Trevelyan. Said she’d be easy to spot because she was the only daughter still living at home.”

“And you took this job?”

“Pardon the expression, ser, but _fuck no_.”

Cullen snorted a laugh. “Why not?”

“Glennon said the ‘Marcher Lord was a prick and we couldn’t trust him as far as we could throw him. Stormed out of the meeting, and a few weeks later signed us on with the Bann what took us to the Conclave.”

Cullen buried his face in his hands and laughed helplessly.

“Ser?” Higgins asked, grinning but confused.

“I have never heard anyone describe our Inquisitor’s father using any word but that one. The man is universally declared to be a prick.”

Higgins nodded. “Its true. Ugly as sin, too. She must have gotten her good looks from her mother.”

Cullen’s amusement dried up quickly. “Right, enough of that, then. Take my request to Sister Leliana.”

Higgins snapped a hand up to his chest in salute. “Yes, ser,” and left the room as quickly as he dared.

 

*

 

The Inquisitor went straight to the Storm Coast from the Hinterlands with only a brief stop in Skyhold in between, sending carts of supplies back to Skyhold in her wake. She was even buying the carts and beasts of burden to carry her shipments, since so much was left behind or otherwise lost in their flight from Haven.

Evelyn had meant to turn around and leave again with the same party, but Dorian caught her coming out of the war room and dragged her into Solas’ solar.

“We have a problem,” Dorian said, cutting to the chase. “You need to take me with you and leave Solas here.”

“While normally I would refuse merely on the grounds that the Tevinter has insisted upon it, I would not mind the opportunity to go through my findings from the rift in the Hinterlands,” Solas conceded mildly.

Dorian shook his head. “It’s not like that. Take me with you, leave me here, that’s not the point. Take Vivienne. Take _no_ mage. Not the point.”

“What _is_ the point, Dorian?” Evelyn prompted him.

“Nightmares. Of the flashback variety. The qunari barbarian had me launch a fireball near a group of men, and three of them promptly vomited, while the fourth…” Dorian shook his head. “Its not uncommon in war. But that many men, having nightmares about the same thing, all in the same rough area…? Might as well throw out a welcome mat for demons.”

Solas’ face went more pale than usual. “Inquisitor, I _must_ stay behind-“

“Nope, don’t bother with the explanation,” Evelyn said, throwing up her hands. “Frankly, it’ll scare me. If you say you need to stay behind and get on this, I trust your judgment. Absolutely. I will leave an order with the Quartermaster to give you literally anything you ask for while I’m gone, full override over my signature. If you run into any trouble, Aieyla will go to war on your behalf, I’ll see to it. If there’s anything here you need and we don’t have, I’m just a raven away.”

Solas nodded. “Can you specify who in particular was involved?” he asked, turning to Dorian, all former haughtiness gone.

“Lieutenant Killeen – short, stocky, blond, tough as nails – has been interviewing all the survivors of Haven. Anyone fitting a certain profile has been flagged. Privately, of course. Only the four who took ill on the practice field are widely known.”

“I should see to those first,” Solas said, as if thinking out loud.

“Meyer, Deforest, Sanderson, and Higgins are their names.”

Evelyn gasped. “No! Is Higgins alright?”

“He probably witnessed something particularly horrifying, Inquisitor,” Solas explained calmly. “And in the heat of the battle was forced to shove it aside, ignore it, normalize it rather than grieve or otherwise cope. As such, it will bubble up to the surface later, in situations that may be inappropriate or life threatening.”

“Maker’s Breath, I don’t think I want to know what he saw,” Evelyn breathed, one cupped hand held to her throat, the other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. “Could I stop and see him while I’m here?”

“He’s probably not liking the attention he’s gathered already,” Solas said gently, to which Dorian agreed, nodding vigorously.

“Augh, if I were anybody else I could just pop in and check on him,” Evelyn huffed, kicking at the flagstones.

“My goodness, temper?” Dorian chided. “Now is not the time to bitch about your position at the top of the mountain, sweets.”

Solas snorted. “I will see Lieutenant Killeen immediately.”

Evelyn gestured for Dorian to come with her, passing back into the main hall as Solas went outside and crossed the causeway to Cullen’s office.

“I’m looking for a Lieutenant Killeen,” the mage announced carefully once Cullen acknowledged him.

Cullen managed a weak smile. “She will be triply glad to see you. I assume you have already spoken with Dorian?”

“And the Inquisitor. I will be staying behind while she and Dorian continue on to the Storm Coast. I assume they will broker no delay and still be leaving in the morning.”

“Fair enough. Higgins here is my runner for the afternoon,” he gestured at the soldier who was nearly invisible in the corner of the room. “He can take you to Lieutenant Killeen, as she is on duty currently and may be anywhere.”

“Ah, good. Thank you, Commander,” and he gestured for Higgins to lead on.

Higgins made no move to start a conversation with Solas on the walk. The elf was an enigma to him; he had practically thrown himself off a roof the first time Higgins had met him, and yet he had never so much as frowned where Higgins could see him any other time. Anyone who could be frazzled by nothing less than a woman falling out of thin air was perhaps too intense for Higgins’ comfort.

“I assume you know why I seek your Lieutenant?” Solas asked quietly.

Higgins paused a step to fall in beside the elf rather than lead him. “I believe I do, ser, yes.”

Solas snorted indelicately. “I am no _ser_. I am merely Solas.”

“As you wish.”

“The Inquisitor was… particularly concerned about your wellbeing,” he said, speaking slowly as if being particularly careful about his word choice. “I encouraged her to not seek you out before leaving for the Storm Coast. Was that the correct action?”

Higgins cocked an eyebrow at his charge. “She has called me her friend in the past. I aspire to live up to that title.”

“But you would not assign it to her?”

“She’s the _Herald of bloody Andraste_. She can be whatever she damn well wants to be.”

Solas laughed, then, a ghost of a sound that made Higgins even more uncomfortable, if that was possible. “That is likely the most accurate statement any of us will ever speak.”

“There she is,” Higgins said in relief, spotting his Lieutenant. “There, speaking to Horsemaster Dennett.”

“If you would be so kind as to tell her I would care for some words when she is available.”

Higgins nodded and moved to Killeen’s side, Solas falling some distance behind.

“Nuggins. Commander want me? I’m just shooting the shit with Dennett,” Killeen said as he drew near.

Higgins gestured discretely towards the elf who had followed him here. “Mage Solas would care for words with you, when you are available.”

“Maker’s balls, that’s unnerving. Dennett, another time.”

“Killeen.” the horsemaster replied.

Killeen strode up to Solas, Higgins in tow. “I will return to the Commander, then?” the runner asked hopefully.

“Ha! Fat chance, Nuggins. You been briefed on our concern, ser?” she asked the mage.

“As I told Higgins here, I am no _ser_ , merely Solas. And, yes, Dorian gave me as much information as he likely had. I was told you had been gathering a list of Haven survivors for me to see?”

“In as many words. I’ve got it locked up in the quartermaster’s office, opposite corner of the keep, behind the tavern. No reason to give anybody any more crap than they’re already slogging through.”

“Very well. I assume your Watch will be ended with the next bell?”

“You assume correctly.”

“Bring what materials you have to the vestibule beneath the library. I will be collecting what all we may require.”

“I will do that. Thank you.”

“So what do you need me for?” Higgins gritted as the elf walked away.

“Practice dummy.”

“Oh, come on…”

“Nope. Need to figure out how to help people, and you’re the person we’re going to figure it out with.”

“I don’t need-“

Killeen calmly pushed Higgins into the wall they were passing, his armor clattering loudly against the stones as he caught himself and fought to stay upright.

“What the fuck, Lieut.”

“I saw the look on your face after Dorian’s fireball, and you are not going through that again. _Not_. Do you hear me?”

Higgins just glared at her.

“I’m not saying this as your Lieutenant. But as your friend. Whatever it was that happened… you’ve lived through it twice now. If there’s a way to make it so you never have to live through it again, I will find it for you.”

When Higgins didn’t answer – but didn’t keep glaring, either – Killeen continued with a shrug. “And like Dorian said, it’s bigger than just you. We don’t know if there were ever any battles here. Maybe the Veil is paper thin here. Maybe it’s strong as steel. But we have to take whatever steps necessary to ensure everyone’s nightmares about Haven don’t endanger Skyhold.

Higgins sighed. “Yes, ser.”

“Get dinner at the Bell, then come to Solas’ office. I will come find you.”

“I’ll be there.”


	26. Dreams and Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will confess to simple wish-fulfillment here: if only PTSD was actually this easy to cure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * * WARNING * * *  
> THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF A CHARACTER DEATH  
> * * * WARNING * * *  
> THIS ONE IS WORSE THAN CH 24.  
> IF 24 BOTHERED YOU, THIS DEFINITELY WILL  
> * * * WARNING * * *

Some eight hours later, Higgins was laid out on a couch in Solas’ vestibule, staring up at the ravencote high above them and hoping the library truly was as empty as Dorian promised it would be. Something told him it wasn’t – but Killeen assured him that was just paranoia talking.

“So you want me to… what?”

“First,” Solas answered mildly, “you’re going to tell someone – Killeen, I presume – exactly what happened the day Haven fell.”

“Fuck you,” Higgins said, starting up off the couch.

“I swear on my life, Morthoven Higgins, if you get off that couch I will _end you_ ,” Killeen hissed.

Higgins scowled at her – but he settled back onto the couch. “Sure thing, _Evelyn Killeen_.”

“Ideally, you will feel nothing.” Solas continued as if no one else had spoken. “I have prepared a tonic for you that will alter your intrinsic connection to the Fade. Your emotions will be dulled, and you will have an easier time discussing the events. When your tale is complete, you will fall asleep. I will find you in the Fade and ascertain whether your dreams have been latched onto by a demon of any form, free you if it has, and ward your dreams against future incursions regardless.”

“So, drink a potion, have a chat, fall asleep, and everything’s all better.”

“In so many words, yes.”

“Bullshit. Life isn’t that easy.”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of magic, my young friend,” Solas replied easily.

Killeen coughed a laugh, settling cross-legged on the floor beside Higgins’ head.

“Would you rather tell somebody else?” she asked a moment later, correctly guessing the source of his retincence.

Higgins looked at her for a long minute. “I would rather tell _anybody_ who didn’t know Glennon. I’d rather you not have this memory of him, even if only second-hand.”

Killeen indicated her understanding. “Let me go find Dorian. He never met him.”

Higgins drew a slow breath, nodding. “That would be… easier, I think. I worry I would… censor it, if I was telling you.”

Killeen vanished out the door into the main hall, knowing Dorian was sitting just beyond with Varric.

“He would rather tell you than me,” Killeen said shortly. “He would rather not tell it to anybody who met Glennon.”

“That bad?” Varric grunted. “Poor bastard.”

Dorian, for his part, made no flourishes or grand statements, but silently followed Killeen back into the room and took her spot by Higgins’ side.

Solas handed Higgins the glowing purple draught, and the soldier swallowed the entire thing in one long pull, as he had Vivienne’s hangover cure what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“It will take a few minutes to take effect, so use this time to get comfortable.”

Higgins was decidedly _uncomfortable_ , so the suggestion had merit. No amount of shifting about on the couch could make him _comfortable_ , but he settled in such a way that he was confident he wouldn’t wake up sore.

“Tell me how you are feeling,” Dorian spoke up, some time later.

Higgins shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“The day Haven was lost, before I arrived at the gates… where were you? What were you doing?”

“The Herald... Evelyn had just sealed the Breach, come back off the mountain intact, under her own power. It was… it was the best moment I’d ever experienced. We’d won. She’d come into town, and was immediately swallowed by people. I drew Evelyn out of the crowd. I could see she was uncomfortable. It was like the night she bought everyone drinks at the bar, and she asked Karl and I to keep close because she’d bitten off more than she could chew. Everyone wanted her, wanted a piece of her, something to call their own. She is the Andraste of our time, to so many of us. To me and Karl, too, but we know she’s still a woman. Andraste burned at the stake, and so could she. So I pulled her out of the crowd and got her up to the Chantry, where Cassandra could protect her.”

“Protect her from the other members of the Inquisition?”

“Protect her from everything. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I feel… odd. Off.”

“That’s good. Spectacular, even. Get to the good part. When did I come in?”

Higgins felt like he should smile, but it was like the emotion existed behind glass. He could see it but not feel it or express it.

“Karl said something was off. Said the guard should have been there, shouldn’t have been drinking. Karl wasn’t drinking, and I agreed with him. Not that I had a chance to. Right then the scout arrived, announced the horde approaching, and then there was fire under the gates. Karl and I ran forward to keep the bar in place, but you asked to be let in and Evelyn called for us to open the doors. She and the Commander ran through, and brought you in.”

“Alright, so what happened to Karl?”

“We loaded the trebuchet. Aimed it. Protected it. Evelyn led her team – said _Cass, with me_ – to the other trebuchet. Used it to bring down the mountain while we cut holes in the enermy ranks. While we fought them, killed them. Men and women who called for their parents, their children, their god. The red lyrium monsters were almost easier, they weren’t really human anymore. We were some distance away from the trebuchet when the avalanche happened, fighting the abominations that came over the wall. Karl ran up to the trebuchet to help re-aim it towards the mountain…”

Higgins’ voice faltered, and immediately Dorian’s hand was in his. “So Karl was standing next to the trebuchet.”

Higgins turned slightly, to look the Tevinter in the eye.

“The dragon flew over. Dropped a fireball on the trebuchet. It was wound, ready to fire. The pressure… between the fireball itself and the tension in the trebuchet, the explosion was huge. Karl was turned, facing me. He was smiling, cheering, and then he was horrified. The whites of his eyes flashed red and the fire overtook him. Just for a second. And then he was flying through the air, limp and lifeless. Then I was rolling, ass over teakettle, blown backwards. I got up and ran. Ran. It was the longest run of my life. Karl was on his face. There were… seventeen… large pieces of the trebuchet sticking out of his back.”

“You counted?”

“Not then. But now? I can see it. I can see it all so clear. The scorched wood driven through his breastplate as if it was paper, cauterizing the wounds as they went in. A bit got under his helmet, angled up, tore through his skull. The whites of his eyes turned red, bright against the blue irises when I rolled him over. I felt for a pulse – stupid, I know – and bits of bone and brain covered his neck, got on my gaunts. His eyes, though. Staring, sightless. He was gone, long gone, hopelessly gone. I needed his shield – he was my shield, I didn’t have cover of my own without him – and I pulled off his gauntlet trying to get the shield off his arm. The glove under it came, too. And under that, the skin – formed another perfect glove. Left his hand all bones and gore, congealed by the fire, hardly any mess unless you touched it. I had to touch it. I was covered. I got the shield off, and found the necklace his mother gave him the day he left. Covered with bone and blood and brain and gobbets of fat, smeared some of it on my face trying to get the necklace over my head without taking my helmet off.”

“And then what?” Dorian’s voice prompted when Higgins fell silent.

“It was hailing,” he said, voice distinct though his brow furrowed in confusion. “Hailing people. Chunks of people… a shoulder here, half a head there, hands and feet and bits of limbs. Too many parts for any one person, any five people. The dragon was swooping down and grabbing people, hauling them into the air and shredding them. I held the shield over my head and ran, and bits of Karl rained down from underneath. Coated me in pieces of my best friend. I got through the gate, and Evelyn was there. Told me to keep going. I couldn’t let her save me again – not again, not like this – and so I put Karl’s shield on my back and followed her. We went house to house. Everything was on fire. Maryden and Flissa were still alive in the tavern – there was a body in the back, pinned beneath a beam that collapsed when the fireball hit, but I didn’t stop to see who it was. They were already burning, already being purified on their way to the Maker’s side, there was nothing I could do. I never knew who it was. I lifted Maryden up, carried her to the Chantry. Set her down, saw bits of Karl on her clothes, mixed in with soot and ashes. He was her friend, and I rubbed bits of his brain onto her clothes and didn’t tell her. Couldn’t tell her. She wore that dress until we got to Skyhold, I saw her four times and every time all I could think was _there is a piece of Karl_. _That smell is Karl, rotting._ I scrubbed my armor in the snow, scrubbed my skin until it was raw. I couldn’t get the smell out of my nose. I don’t think I ever will.”

“Would you like to sleep now?” Dorian asked, lightly squeezing Higgins’ fingers when he fell silent again.

“Yes,” Higgins answered. “I don’t think I have anything left to give you.”

“Sleep, then. Dream of Solas.”

Higgins shut his eyes and was immediately unconscious.

Dorian glanced over and saw Solas on his platform near the door, already laid out and Dreaming. He let his eyes drift up to the balcony over the library, further up to the darkness of the ravencote. Perched on the edge, in the gloom, he could barely make out the figures listening to Higgins’ story, but he knew where to look, knew they were there.

It would be some time before Solas or Higgins woke up – and nothing Dorian could do for either of them in the meantime – so he walked silently through the door to the stairwell and climbed up to the top floor, where Leliana and her scouts normally skulked.

Evelyn was sitting on the floor, legs stretched out before her. Killeen sat between Evelyn’s knees, leaning back to bury her face in the Inquisitor’s shoulder, sobbing for all she was worth. The rustling of wings and soft croaks of the ravens swallowed the sound of her tears. Evelyn’s arms were wrapped around the weeping soldier, who was curled up as if something in her abdomen hurt her. Dorian approached slowly, lowering himself to the floor beside them. He’d seen Killeen cry before, or else he wouldn’t have believed it possible. She’d woken up weeping the night Haven had fallen, turned to Dorian in a half-stupor and allowed herself to be comforted. He’d woken up before her in the morning but pretended to slumber until she awoke and left, giving her at least the semblance of dignity when she faced him thereafter. Rather than interrupt her mourning, Dorian sat behind Evelyn and let her lean against him, transferring some of the weight literally off her shoulders.

“Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh,” Evelyn was saying, more to soothe than encourage silence. “Let it all out, Kill. Let it go.”

“That’s how-“ Killeen gasped. Her voice was swallowed by another wracking sob. “That’s how Daniel-“

Evelyn started rocking side-to-side gently, and the motion seemed to help settle Killeen.

“Daniel,” she whispered a few minutes later. “Was lifted off the ground by the dragon. Torn to bits. And dropped. On me. On Higgins. I never told him. Never told him or _anybody_. Nobody saw his body because there _wasn’t_ one, there were only pieces on the ground. Bloody metal hailstones. His whole squad, Maker forgive me, I only had eyes for him. Watched the dragon soar up, saw the bloody mist explode where Daniel used to be, saw bits start to rain down as the dragon picked up another. And another. Two or three at a time.”

Evelyn said nothing when Killeen fell silent, just slowly rocked back and forth until the last of the sobbing subsided.

“Have you dreamed of it at all?” Dorian asked gently when it looked like Killeen was bracing herself to sit up.

If he startled her, she didn’t show it. “Of course I have. But not like Higgins. No flashbacks, no wake-up-screaming kinds of nightmares. And after hearing what happened, I don’t blame him. Maker, how could anyone?”

“Do you want a sleeping draught? Just for tonight?”

Killeen shook her head wordlessly.

“We’re taking Higgins up to sleep in one of the rooms over the garden,” Evelyn said softly, her voice a careful monotone, like she was soothing a spooked horse. Dorian was rather annoyed by it, but it seemed to be doing wonders for Killeen. “We can put you up in one, as well. But I don’t know as you’re going to want to walk through the encampment right now.”

Killeen shook her head again. “No. Didn’t think of that, but no.”

“Alright. We’ll put you in with Higgins? Or do you want a different room?”

“Same room is fine. And, Void take it, I’ll drink the sleeping draught if it’ll keep me from dreaming.”

“Solas insists it will,” Dorian replied.

“We’re going to circulate a story that you and Higgins stayed up drinking with Dorian and I,” Evelyn said as they all picked themselves slowly off the floor. “To make it believable, I’ll sleep in the same room with you two.”

Dorian laughed to himself. “I’ll fetch Sera. This sounds like the sort of endeavor she would love to partake in.”

Killeen managed a weak smile and nodded her agreement as Dorian disappeared down the stairs ahead of them.

“How are we getting Higgins over to the garden rooms?”

“I’m afraid,” Evelyn answered, leading the way down the stairs, “that’s up to you and I.”

When they got into Solas’ room, however, Higgins was awake and sitting up, head down and his hands hanging limply between his knees. Solas was coming down off the ladder. “Ah, good. Perfect timing. There was no demon lurking in Higgins’ dreams, but I have warded them nonetheless. I cannot keep him from having nightmares – only dwarves and Tranquil have that dubious luxury – but his dreams, at least, will not contribute to any Fade disturbances in Skyhold.”

“Great,” Killeen said, half-serious. “One down, only fifty-seven more to go.”

“Fifty-eight of us?” Higgins asked, astonishment lifting his head. “Did that many even survive Haven?”

Killeen smiled at him, a bit sadly. “We told you the problem was bigger than just you.”

“Maker…” Higgins breathed, dropping his head into his hands.

“How do you feel?” Trevelyan asked, creeping slowly closer to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Numb,” he said from behind his hands.

“Come on, we’ve got a cover story.”

Higgins looked up at her wearily. “Say what?”

“That’s my line!” Sera said, exploding into the vestibule. “Remember? My first line, the day we met?”

“You mean the day you set me up?” Evelyn replied with a grin.

“Bah, that’s no way to remember it. All those guards, bare bums flapping around. What did you do with that big sack o’ breeches I left ya?”

“What now?” Higgins asked, laughing in spite of himself.

“She didn’t tell yeh?” Sera shot an insulted look at the Herald. “All that work to bring ‘em out with no breeches on, and you go and keep it to yourself?”

“I fear I haven’t heard this story yet, either,” Dorian said from the doorway behind her.

“Somebody telling stories?” Varric called from the main hall.

“Oh, for the love… Out!” Solas cried, making sweeping motions with his hands. “Take this elsewhere.”

Higgins stumbled off the couch and Killeen got under him just in time to keep him off the floor, swinging his arm across her shoulder.

“Did Nuggins start without us?” Varric asked as they came down the short hall. “I’ll have to broach a new barrel for the rest of us to catch up.”

“Get on it, then!” Sera called, and the party moved to Varric’s table in the main hall.

Killeen caught Higgins’ eye. He still looked _off_ somehow, but Sera’s story about too many breeches had him smiling, at least.

It was something.

 

*

 

The Inquisitor left promptly at First Bell the next morning with Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian in tow. Sera and Higgins hauled a miserably hungover Killeen back to her tent in the army encampment as the Inquisitor’s team disappeared into the mountains.

“What in Andraste’s name happened to her?” Ringwold asked as they passed his tent.

“Lost a bet with the Inquisitor,” Higgins answered.

“You’d think _I_ lost the bet,” Sera grumped. “She’s getting’ the free ride, ain’t she? I’m the one forced ta’ drag ‘er sorry arse all the way out here in the snow. She coulda camped closer to the gates, yeah?”

“Here,” Ringwold offered, taking Killeen’s hand and lifting the Lieutenant’s arm off Sera’s shoulders. Sera slid free as Ringwold took her place.

“Great,” Sera said, smiling. “Cheers!” She turned on her heel and fled back into the relative warmth of the keep.

“Wondered where you two got off to yesterday,” Ringwold told Higgins after Sera had vanished.

“Killeen and Sera were telling stories. Or maybe it was the Inquisitor and Killeen?” Higgins frowned, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. “Andraste’s ass, I can’t keep it straight. The whole first half of the night is fuzzy.”

“And the second half of the night?” Ringwold prompted.

“Missing,” Higgins confessed. “I woke up in a side room off the garden with _no idea_ how I got there.”

Ringwold snorted a laugh. “Fully clothed and alone, I hope.”

“Fully clothed, yes. But alone? I wish. The Inquisitor was asleep, draped across Sera and Dorian’s laps. Varric was curled up on the table like a mabari on a rug. Killeen was _under_ the table. I seemed to have drawn the long straw, since somebody had attempted to stick me in the bed. My head was hanging off the side and my knuckles were on the ground. Took five minutes before my hands woke up.”

Ringwold fought to stifle a laugh, as the more noise he made the more agitated Killeen became.

“Only you, Higgins,” Ringwold said, shaking his head fondly. “Only you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, some closure for Brownie.


	27. Wicked Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which surprises abound and the Angel of Death is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of my friend Jason's 30th birthday: cards and shenanigans.

Eamon came looking for Higgins a few days later, having been stymied in his search for Lieutenant Killeen.

“Where’ve you been?” Higgins asked as the templar strode up to him in camp.

“Took a week, went home to Redcliffe to convince my family I was alive. I knew once we got settled in here there would be no leaving, so I went while I had a chance.”

“You took leave?” Higgins asked, befuddled. “We get leave?”

Eamon barked a laugh. “Of course you do, man. Just ask the Commander.”

“Huh,” Higgins replied, slowly. “Never really thought about it, I guess. How was Redcliffe?”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Home is home. Never as good as you remember, always hard to leave.”

Higgins nodded, silent.

“You’ve got Second Watch tomorrow, right? Had First this morning? Is Killeen still up at the keep with Cullen or something?”

Higgins nodded again. “Killeen’s meeting with the Commander, as he’s promoted Jenson and Baudin into the vacant Lieutenant spots. Surprised you’re not up there.”

“Not invited. Templar units are being kept separate from the regulars.”

Higgins snorted. “Lucky you.”

“Anyways. Not the point – I’ve heard Sutherland and Harding are both here right now – and look to be for at least a few days – so I was going to ask your help in pinning them down in the tavern for a game of cards and some stories.”\

“Sutherland and Harding _both_?” Higgins repeated, hovering on the verge of shocked. “Has that ever happened before?”

“I don’t think so,” Eamon confirmed, “and I mean to take advantage of it. You in?”

“Absolutely. I’ll drag Killeen with me. She needs a break.”

Eamon’s company was in the slot directly after Killeen’s in the watch schedule, so when Killeen and Higgins had Second Watch, Eamon had Third. Their party convened at the Herald’s Rest an hour after Third Bell. Eamon brought one of the Templars from his company, a willowy Fereldan named Aillis. She had raven black hair and brilliant green eyes, her slender form concealing muscles hardened from years of constant use. Killeen and Higgins were the first to join them. Sutherland arrived within minutes, alone as Shayd and Voth had declined the invitation. Harding was the last to show, and – surprisingly – brought Sera with her.

“So what’s the surprise you said you had for us?” Aillis asked after introductions had been made and they’d found a suitably large table on the second floor.

Eamon pulled a slim package from a pouch at his belt and tossed it lightly into the center of the table.

“A deck of cards?” Killeen asked blankly. “We’re sitting in a _tavern_. There’s two dozen packs of cards laying around here.”

“Put your teeth together, Killeen, and look at the damn things.” Eamon retorted.

Higgins reached out to open the pack, and spread the cards across the table.

The illustration on the back was the sword-and-eye of the Inquisition, the blade wreathed in red and the eye glowing green.

The cards, themselves, were more unique.

“Maker’s balls, the whole deck is the Inquisition?” Sutherland breathed, reaching out to take one for closer inspection.

“Daggers are Leliana’s scouts,” Eamon explained, holding up cards to illustrate his points. “Knights are templars.”

“Andraste’s ashes, it’s Trevelyan,” Higgins gasped, staring wide-eyed at the card in his hand.

Killeen calmly reached across the table to knock her knuckles against Higgins’ forehead for using the Inquisitor’s name. “Respect your Herald, Nuggins.”

Rather than respond, Higgins rotated the card so everyone else at the table could see it.

It was plainly the Inquisitor, wearing the armor she’d had requisitioned to replace what had been ruined in the snow escaping Haven, layers of overlapping black leather plates with a peaked hood covering her features. There were glowing green eyes peering out of the hood, to match the green glow of the upraised left hand. The right hand bore a black-hafted double-bladed dagger.

“They made the Inquisitor the Angel of Death?” Aillis whispered. “Was that wise?’

“Ha!” Sera cried, reaching across to snag it out of Higgins’ hand. “She’ll fucking _hate it_. You just watch.”

“It’s fitting,” Higgins said slowly. “You ever seen her fight?”

Killeen and Sera nodded, while Sutherland shook his head and gathered up the cards to begin shuffling. Harding kicked her heels up onto the table. “Yep. Fitting is _exactly_ what I’d call it. You should have seen her when she met me in the Storm Coast the second time, when I was helping with the resupply and leading the troops home? There were some darkspawn on the beach and they got _shredded_. It was something to see.”

“She was whirling death at Therinfall,” Aillis said, with Eamon nodded eagerly beside her. “Almost hard to watch.”

“Hard to follow,” Higgins agreed.

“Fucking rogues,” Killeen muttered.

“Herald beat her in a spar,” Higgins explained, when Eamon and Aillis looked askance at the grumpy Lieutenant.

“You _fought with her_?” Sutherland asked, nearly dropping the cards.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just deal. I’ll tell you about it while we play,” Killeen answered, gesturing angrily at the cards in Sutherland’s hand.

Killeen – with Higgins’ help – told the story of the midnight spar on Haven’s frozen lake and how she’d taken the Herald out for a drink after. Harding won two hands while Killeen spoke.

Eamon told the full story of what had transpired at Therinfall. Aillis took one hand and Sera took the next three while everyone else was distracted by Eamon’s words.

Higgins was prompted by Killeen to tell of his capture by the Avvar, which brought the game to a standstill.

“That was you,” Sutherland said dully. “You?”

Higgins shrugged while Aillis leaned toward him. “She breathed into your mouth? Higgins, that’s _hot_.”

“Did she taste like that honey shit she drinks?” Sera asked, surprising everyone.

Higgins shrugged again. “Look, I was _dying_. Like I told Killeen, I wouldn’t have noticed – or cared – if her breath smelled like mabari fucking crunch. I was dying and then I wasn’t. That was what stood out for me.”

Harding was studying him. “You seeing anyone, Higgins?”

Higgins’ brows furrowed. “No. Odd question. Why?”

“You ever see anyone?”

Higgins shrugged. “Never interested.”

“Never interested in a person? Or never interested in being with somebody?”

Higgins shifted, decidedly uncomfortable.

“Look,” he said, leaning to one side in his chair. “I just met half of you, so fuck you. Second, it’s none of your business, so fuck you. Third, because I like you, Lace… _fuck you_.”

Killeen burst into laughter. “It’s okay, Higgins, nobody cares.”

“I care. It’s nobody’s business.”

“Fair enough,” Harding said gently. “I just know… some people aren’t interested. Never interested. They might fall in love or whatnot, but the physical part about being with somebody just… isn’t them. My sister’s that way. Coming up on thirty and has no desire to _be_ with anybody. You remind me of her.”

Higgins’ shoulders dropped, as if he was deflating. “We’d probably get along,” he admitted. “I’m not… I’ve never really understood what the big deal was. I know how it works, I just… have never been interested in sex.” Higgins shrugged. “It’s never been appealing to me, much less _important_.”

He glanced up, expected to be mocked – and instead met a sea of unconcerned faces.

“To each his own,” Aillis shrugged.

“More for the rest of us,” Eamon said with a smile.

Higgins canted an eyebrow at Killeen. She shrugged too. “I’ve always known you were less interested in me than Dorian was.”

Sera nodded. “And that’s saying something.”

“It’s not the same!” Higgins protested. “Killeen, the day I met you, I thought you had the _best laugh_.”

Killeen grinned at him, blushing lightly. “You did?”

“I absolutely did. Just because I didn’t have the urge to jump your bones does not mean I wasn’t completely entranced by your laugh.”

“Oh, knock off,” Sera said, grabbing the cards to shuffle. “Nobody cares if you get yer knob polished, yer muff dived, or by who. Just shuffle the blasted cards and somebody tell me a _story_.”

“I’ve got one for you,” Harding said, leaning forward to collect her cards. “Eamon probably knows it, so he can chime in. But I can tell you about the Hero of Ferelden saving Redcliffe from the undead.”

“Ooh, that’s a good start,” Sera cooed happily. “Tell us right off the scary story’s got a good ending. I’m game.”

They were completely entranced by Harding’s story – Eamon pitching in to explain what was going on _in_ Redcliffe, since his family had told him what they had lived through – when the Angel of Death card was drawn, signifying the end of the hand.

“Maker’s right nut, is that _me_?” a voice called from over Sera’s shoulder, startling all of them badly.

“Ev!” Sera said, jumping out of her chair to hug the Inquisitor while everyone else hurried to hide the cards. “Yer the right nut, when did you get back?”

“Just… now… no, really was that _me_? Where in Andraste’s name did you get those?” She reached over, grabbing Higgins’ hand and gently taking the cards from him. “Guys, these are _gorgeous_.”

“They’re Eamon’s,” Higgins said, indicating the Templar. “He just came back from leave in Redcliffe, bought them there.”

“No shit?” Evelyn Trevelyan asked, eyebrows reaching her hairline. “Dorian was talking about making another run out that way, I’ll have to pick a set of these up while I’m there. This is _such_ a good gift for Varric.”

“Vendor near the docks,” Eamon spoke up hurriedly, now that they knew she wasn’t upset. “Bookseller. There’s somebody in town who met you and is actually printing them, but I never met him.”

“Was that me?” Evelyn asked, reaching for the cards again, flipping them over as if in a daze.

Killeen had grabbed the card in question, and she handed it to the Herald. Sera sat back down and drew Evelyn onto her lap with a wicked wink at Higgins. Evelyn sat without seeming to notice where she was.

“I’m the Angel of Death? Andraste’s melting nipples, that’s _me_?” She seemed unaware of her repetition.

“You _are_ kind of known for putting holes in bitches,” Killeen said evenly.

Trevelyan snorted a laugh. “That’s one way of putting it. Fantastic.”

“Did you want to play?” Harding asked, sneaking a glance around the table to see what the reactions were to her question. Aillis, who had not yet met the Inquisitor, visibly blanched, while Sutherland seemed overly eager. Higgins and Killeen were nonplussed, as was Sera. Eamon paled but otherwise didn’t react.

Evelyn turned to look at Sera, seeming suddenly like a child who wanted very much to play with her friends. “Could I?”

Sera smiled and cupped a hand to her cheek. “Of course, yeah? Play with people to be like people.”

Evelyn beamed at Harding. “I would love to play a hand. So long as you promise not to go easy on me, and let me buy the next round.”

“Done!” Killeen cried, slapping the flat of her hand on the table.

“Also, I need a chair. Sera is all bones.”

“Hey!”

While Higgins stole a chair from another table and everyone scooted around to make room – Evelyn sitting between Sera and Higgins – Killeen conducted the remaining introductions.

“You know Sera, Harding, Sutherland. I know you and _Nuggins_ are acquainted,” which drew a peal of laughter from the Inquisitor. “You’ve met Eamon a time or two, yes?”

“Yes,” Evelyn replied, with an awkward but happy wave at the Templar Lieutenant, which he returned.

“Which leaves Aillis, there… Knight-Templar Aillis, forgive me.”

“Very nice to meet you, Aillis,” Evelyn replied with as good of a bow as one can perform while seated at a table.

“It’s an honor, Your Worship.”

“Oh, no, about that,” Killeen started, but Higgins interrupted her. “There’s a catch, Aillis. You only get to hang out with the Inquisitor if you _never_ call her anything more formal that _ser_. Unless you’re mocking her, but she’ll get you back for- OW.’

“You dodged, when you introduced me to Eamon with that line of bullshit,” Evelyn said, as Higgins dropped sideways out of his chair, holding his ribs. “Thanks for reminding me, Nuggins.”

“What the fuck, Evelyn?” Higgins asked miserably from the floor, curled into a ball around the spot where she’d punched him.

Killeen calmly stood, leaned back and forth to get the best angle, and then kicked Higgins squarely in the ass.

“ _Some_ measure of respect, Nuggins,” Killeen said as she seated herself and the table roared with laughter. It had been more for show than to hurt, but Higgins’ whines utterly leveled his drinking companions. “Never call a lady by her first name.”

“Wot, everybody else gets to have a name, but Ev here has got a title?” Sera scowled at Killeen. “That’s not fair, not by half.”

“Well…” Killeen started, to be immediately interrupted by Aillis’ assertion that _she_ didn’t mind being called by her first name.

Evelyn beamed at the templar. “Why, _thank you_ , Aillis.”

“I sure as shit won’t be calling you anything but _ser_ , but that’s not because you’re a lady,” the templar laughed.

Evelyn scrunched up her nose to another round of laughter.

“Aight, then,” Sera said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Ya’ll should call her what Varric does, then.”

Evelyn got out of her chair so fast it was thrown ten feet behind her, to spin violently across the floor of the bar and bounce off the railing near the stairs. She threw herself at Sera, but the elf’s mouth was faster than the Herald’s hands.

“Knuckles, her name is! AUGH!” Sera managed to twist a bit as Evelyn launched into the air, spitting profanities, and they rolled wrecklessly across the floor in the opposite direction of the chair. Sera was ready for the attack, and managed to use Evelyn’s velocity against her, throwing the Herald against the wall of the tavern with a deafening crash.

The Herald’s Rest was deathly quiet then, for the span of four heartbeats until Evelyn came up holding her ribs and laughing hysterically, her hair jutting about at all angles. Sera pointed at her and burst out laughing, and their companions at the table quickly joined them.

Killeen crawled across the floor to fetch Evelyn’s chair, and some minutes later they managed to get their amusement under wraps.

“Remember when I said you were fucking terrifying, ser?” Higgins asked as Evelyn regained her seat. “I thought Sera was done for.”

Evelyn laughed while Sera snorted indignantly. “Done for? She wouldn’t kill _me_ , not for that at least.” Sera leaned forward to point a finger in Higgins’ face. “And if you can’t call her _Ev_ , you either start calling her _Trevelyan_ or _Knuckles._ When she’s in here bein’ people we want her to act like people. All this _ser_ and _yer worship_ and _yer ladybits_ and whatnot… that’s not what you call who yer playin’ cards with.”

Killen grunted. “Point taken.”

“Right. Now. Ev, we’re not playin’ for money. We’re playin’ for _stories_. So think of one to tell us, yeah? Your turn.”

Evelyn leaned back and studied her companions. Aillis had loosened up considerably after Sera had thrown the Inquisitor across the room. The promised round of drinks had been delivered in the meantime, and seeing the Herald get handed a glass of honey liquor while everyone else drank beers – without specifying, meaning she was a regular here, with a usual order – took some of the shine off, as far as the templars were concerned. Sutherland had a pretty strong case of hero worship, but he was eager to prove himself and would give the Herald anything he thought she wanted – including comraderie. Harding, Sera, and Higgins had all seen her in the field, embattled and filthy. And Killeen… Killeen was Killeen. In another life, Trevelyan and Killeen could have been close.

“Tough crowd,” Trevelyan muttered. “Higgins and Killeen know everything I’ve done since I arrived, and have probably already told the better stories. Which means I should tell you something from before the Inquisition… but I’m not really sure any of you want to hear the kind of shit I used to get up to.”

“What, back when you were a thief with the Carta?” Higgins asked.

Trevelyan’s jaw dropped, as did nearly every other persons’ at the table. Sera was amused, but Killeen’s lack of response caught Evelyn’s eye. “How the fuck did you two…”

“Your Father tried to hire me… well, me and Glennon and half of Highever, if I’m honest, to go to Ostwick and try to keep you out of trouble.”

Evelyn’s eyebrows went, impossibly, higher. “No way.”

“True story. Told Killeen about it the day you woke up in Haven and met her and Glennon with your arms full of elfroot.”

Evelyn started shaking her head. “You _have_ to tell me about that.”

"Not my turn for a story," Higgins countered with a grin.

That the Herald was only surprised the soldier _knew_ and not furious at the accusation seemed even more astonishing to the others at the table. With a rueful shake of her head, Evelyn leaned back and took a steadying drink. “Right. So, a story from my wasted youth, then.”

She twisted her mouth for a minute before seeming to reach a decision. “I don’t know if you’ve ever heard about my father, but he’s… a right piece of work.”

“A prick,” Higgins supplied helpfully.

Evelyn laughed. “Right! You _did_ meet him. But yes, he’s a criminal and a jackass. He’s also fabulously wealthy and painfully arrogant about it. So when I met my friend Cadash and learned from him how to be a rogue, my father first ignored it. He didn’t have any moral objections to my more dubious hobbies, and at the beginning I wasn’t causing any notice.

“But the youngest daughter of Lord Trevelyan – the only daughter still eligible to be married off, as one already had been and the other two were at the Circle in Ostwick, on either side of the hall – I was invited to a great number of things. I knew, for example, when Lord Aidlemore was going to have a ball celebrating his daughter’s betrothal to Lord Hadley’s eldest son, and which families would be there. Which meant I knew whose houses and villas would be empty on any given night, and where it would be easiest to break into or out of. I passed that information along, my only price being I wanted to be taught how to use the information I was giving them, how to pick locks and scale walls and… Maker, if only you could see your faces.”

Her comment broke the spell they were under; as one, they shook themselves a bit and refocused on the cards in their hands rather than staring, astonished, at Trevelyan.

“So after awhile of being an informant and training under Cadash,” she hesitated, almost imperceptibly, and colored slightly before continuing, a reaction only Killeen and Sera seemed to notice, “I said I wasn’t giving any more information unless they took me along on a job. One of my father’s closest friends, who happened to be married to the Arl’s youngest sister, came to talk to my father one night about a _trade agreement_ they were negotiating. I knew that meant something terrible… smuggling of some sort at the very least. How bad it was depended on _what_ they were smuggling, and I hadn’t heard yet of anything they wouldn’t deal in.”

Sera had a few choice words at that – partially at the implication of slavery, and partially because Harding had just taken another hand. It was Sutherland’s turn to shuffle, and as he gathered the cards, Evelyn continued her story.

“So I told the Cadash clan everything I knew about my father’s friend, and what I had managed to hear about their negotiations. And then I stayed as far away from them as possible, so my father – who by now had figured out I was responsible for all the recent burglaries, at least peripherally – wouldn’t think I was planning against _him_. The clan figured out what the _trade agreement_ entailed, and decided to intercept the shipment before my father or his friend got anywhere near it. There were crates coming in from Hercinia on a ship, to be offloaded in the middle of the night into a warehouse not far from the docks. My father’s friend was sending his men to move the crates an hour before dawn, so we wouldn’t have a large window between when they came off the ship and when they were sent for.”

Evelyn paused to call down for another round – on her again – as Higgins finally won a hand.

“I was the newest person on the team, so I was given the job of lookout. I sat on the roof and had a smoke bomb I was to drop into the warehouse through a ventilation window when the pick-up crew arrived for the crates, if my guys weren’t out yet. So when the team arrived almost an hour early to get the crates, and half of clan Cadash was still inside, I about panicked. I’d given them this job, and if they got caught by my father… well, the ramifications were complicated and _all bad_. So I threw the bomb in the window and looked for a way to stall.”

The game was forgotten, as everyone was hanging on Evelyn’s every word. “There was a squad of guards a block over, and the pick-up team was being pretty obvious about avoiding their notice. If I could attract the guards to _them_ , that might keep everybody outside long enough for my team to get out – since they were using a sewer entrance under the warehouse for egress. I couldn’t see any way to alert the guards without drawing them down on _me_ … what I needed was to get them to walk one block over, and they’d see my father’s men in the alleyway.

“So I decided to take a running leap from the roof of the warehouse I was on – now that I could see the red smoke coming from the window and I knew the clan was alerted – onto the skylight of the next building over, the offices for the port authority. I figured I would be nice and noisy about it, maybe kick a few things off the roof in the process, maybe get one of my father’s guys to shout something, I didn’t know. I didn’t have any other plans, and I was out of time, so I ran, jumped, landed, rolled… and went _through_ the skylight. It was pretty badly cracked, which I couldn’t see in the darkness from the warehouse, and when my foot hit it, the glass shattered and I went right through.”

Evelyn had reached under the table and tugged off her boot and stocking while she was talking, and now put her foot up on the table to display the thick ridge of scar bisecting the bottom of her foot.

“No way I was running on _that_ ,” she laughed, “and even if I managed to hobble away, I was guaranteed to leave a trail _anyone_ could follow. So I laid on the floor of the port authority and bled on their carpeting out of spite. One member of the Guard came to check on the noise – the rest having stayed in the alleyway to question my father’s friend’s men. When _I_ was found in the port authority, the whole lot of them were arrested along with me for good measure. The more the Guard found out about them – whose employ they were under, known associates, that sort of thing – the more they found to connect them to _me_ and the more trouble everyone got into.”

Evelyn tugged her stocking and boot back on and picked her hand of cards back off the table. “My father was _humiliated_ and decided I was done running with the Carta. He tried curtailing my activities – failed miserably, of course, but he gave it a pretty good try... leading to his trying to hire Higgins and Glennon, apparently. Cadash and his clan got away clean, and even managed to get most of the crates out of the warehouse, to boot. They never told me what was in them, and to be honest I suspect it was lyrium. They all knew what I’d done and why, and they let me go along with them on jobs whenever I wanted to after that. I wasn’t invited to many more social functions, being the family scapegrace, but I just went through my brothers’ mail instead. So there you are – my first scar, my first job with the Carta, and my first time being arrested, all in one go.”

“Knuckles, you ass,” Varric’s voice preceded him up the stairs. “Are you telling stories without me? Good ones?”

“Oh, and look at that, my first win at Wicked Grace, as well,” Trevelyan said, turning over the card with her own visage on it and laying down her hand – a run of Daggers. “Thanks for the game, guys. I’m out of here before Varric kills me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 97% sure she cheated.


	28. Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dueling Evelyns and a guarded chess match.

Harding was sent to the Exalted Plains the next morning, the order coming out of the war room in the early morning hours and the scout saddling up and riding out of Skyhold while Higgins and Killeen were on the training ground.

“You think you’re about ready to start training with a shield?” Killeen asked him softly after they waved goodbye to Lace.

Higgins shook his head slowly. “I need to, I know. Tactics and whatnot. I just… never have. Glennon was the shield and I…”

“They say the Hero of Ferelden fought like you do,” Eamon told him, inviting himself into the conversation. “My father fought with her in the defense of Redcliffe, while I was off learning how to be a templar. Longsword and a dagger, with her fellow warden’s shield protecting her flank. If it’s good enough for the King and Queen of Ferelden, it should be good enough for us.”

“Meh,” Higgins shrugged. “They can get away with more. If I’m to fight in formation, I need to conform. Or at least learn the basics. And the new guys shouldn’t see me getting special treatment. Inquisition warriors have a sword and shield, so that’s what I need to do. I just… don’t have the foggiest how to go about it.”

“The only real question,” Killeen said with a smile, “is who you want to have teach you. Me? Eamon? Bull? Maybe we can get the Commander down here, I could offer to tell him the story Knuckles shared with us in exchange for a shield lesson like he used to give in Haven.”

Eamon grunted, “Should be down here anyway. He needs to stay in training like anyone else.”

Killeen and Higgins stared at him for a moment before cracking smiles. “Hold that thought,” Killeen said, charging off the training field towards the keep.

“Maker’s breath, what have I done?” Eamon asked, aghast, as they watched her disappear through the gates.

“Alright, Knight-Lieutenant,” Higgins said, aiming to distract Eamon. “Shield lesson. Go.”

Eamon started him off as a rank beginner, which was likely what they both needed. They went through the parts of the shield and their purposes, and Higgins was only just strapping a training version of the templar shield to his arm – Glennon’s being safely stowed under the cot in his tent – when Killeen returned, a shamefaced Commander in her wake.

“Commander, ser,” Higgins greeted him, vaguely gesturing with his shielded arm. “Better late than never, right?”

Cullen smiled at him weakly. “Yes, well, Lieutenant Killeen reminded me that if I wish to continue to lead from the front, I must put the time in here along with everyone else. She has also suggested we teach by example, and so, if you are not opposed, Higgins, I will have you spar with me to help you get a feel for shield technique.”

Higgins’ jaw dropped. “Not opposed, ser, not really, but…” Higgins shifted a bit. “Ser, you’ll kick my ass.”

Cullen barked a laugh, and much of his awkwardness seemed to drop. “Glad _someone_ still thinks so,” he replied, shooting a a disgusted look at Killeen. Higgins suddenly had a very good idea about what she’d said to get the Commander to the training field. “And, no, Higgins, I won’t… _kick your ass_ , so much as I will walk you through the forms you should be practicing.”

For most of the next hour, Cullen would explain a shield technique or tactic, demonstrate it with Higgins until Higgins got a basic feel for it, and then Killeen and Eamon would give a demonstration at full speed.

“That’s all well and good,” a voice interrupted, smoke and honey and unmistakably the Inquisitor. “But you’re only teaching him how to fight other warriors.”

Cullen held his practice sword up in acknowledgment of the Inquisitor. “While true, it is Higgins’ _first day_ holding a shield. All things must come in proper time.”

Trevelyan was sitting on a post on the fence demarcating the edges of the training field, in the nondescript brown armor she wore while travelling. “Going somewhere, ser?” Eamon asked.

Evelyn laughed. “I felt I should be properly attired for a trip to the encampment.” She turned her attention back to Higgins. “When you have learned all these shield-swingers can teach you, send for me and I’ll teach you how to defend against rogues. I can bring Dorian if you want mage training, as well, although I might have to threaten him to get him to come back out here.”

While Higgins nodded acceptance of the Inquisitor’s proposal, Killeen rolled her eyes. “Oh, get off it. Just because you beat me that one time…”

“What is this, now?” Cullen asked, interrupting his Lieutenant.

Evelyn made a cutting motion at Killeen, but the Lieutenant pretended not to see, turning towards the Commander. “I told the Inquisitor, way back in Haven, before she went to the Hinterlands the first time, that I thought she needed to be protected. She offered to prove to me that she could protect herself, and took me down to the lake and promptly cheated.”

“ _Cheated_?” Evelyn protested. “I did not _cheat_ , I showed you how hard I was to hit.”

Killeen snorted. “Whatever. You played a vanishing act, you couldn’t have gotten through my guard without it.”

“Oh, you are _so on_ ,” Evelyn said, jumping down from the fence.

Cullen moved to put a stop to it. “Inquisitor, I don’t think that this is an appropriate time for-“

“You’re going to want to narrate this for Higgins,” Evelyn said, reaching over her shoulders to draw her double-edged daggers. “Make sure he understands everything Lieutenant Killeen does wrong.”

Killeen already had her shield out, but she threw aside the training sword and drew her own steel. She slapped the flat of her blade across the front of her shield. “You going to stay where I can see you this time? Face me in a fair fight?”

Evelyn rolled her shoulders as Cullen deftly moved himself and Higgins out of their way. “No such thing as a fair fight, soldier,” she replied, her voice dropping into a growl, “but I’ll give you a fighting chance this time.”

Killeen lunged rather than respond, and Evelyn had to quickly step to the side to avoid a shield to the face, and then the fight was on.

“First mistake,” Eamon said into Higgins’ ear. “Do not provoke the Inquisitor.”

Cullen snorted a laugh, quickly ducking his head to mask the source of the sound, in case either combatant heard. It was unlikely they did, over the sudden ringing echo of steel on steel, a staccato song of daggers on shield.

“There,” the Commander said a few seconds later, “if the Inquisitor was fighting to kill rather than spar, the dip in Killeen’s shield there would have given her an opening to slip to the side and flank, which is an opportunity you should _never_ give an opponent, much less a rogue.”

Higgins nodded. “I see what you mean, ser,” and briefly mimicking the motion with his own shield.

“Right. _Don’t_ do that,” Cullen laughed again.

There was sudden dull _crack_ and Evelyn was flying gracefully backwards, rolling into a somersault and then leaping back into the attack. “Don’t ask me what the Herald did to deserve that, but don’t forget your shield is as much a weapon as an armament; knocking your opponent away from you might serve you better than bringing your sword into play, given the opening you’re presented.”

Killeen’s foot was suddenly swept out from under her, but as the Inquisitor swung back around to finish her, the soldier rolled away and threw her shield at Evelyn’s knee, dropping her to the ground a few paces away from where Killeen was now scrambling up out of the dirt. She lunged at the Inquisitor, but Evelyn, on her back, caught Killeen on the balls of her feet and propelled her away before rolling swiftly to her feet and pouncing on the Lieutenant’s back.

The fight was quickly deteriorating into a scrum, and Higgins, laughing, took a step forward to break it up. Cullen and Eamon both immediately reached out and grabbed a shoulder and dragged him back.

“Never, and I mean _never_ , try to break up a fight like this,” Eamon said and a loud whisper, the muffled shouts and grunts of the combatants seeming to emerge from a small dust cloud rather than two people.

“Grudge match between two friends?” Cullen said, shaking his head. “Stupid. Grudge match between _those two_? Suicidal.”

“Wait until one of them goes flying and then don’t let them reengage,” Eamon counseled. He and Cullen met gazes and nodded.

As if on command, Evelyn was flung through the air, landing roughly and rolling a few times before springing to her feet as Killeen slowly rose and dusted herself off. Cullen and Eamon both rushed the field, the Commander stepping in front of the Inquisitor while the Knight-Lieutenant confronted the Lieutenant.

“Higgins is learning nothing now that Killeen has been disarmed,” the Commander said as authoritatively as he could while fighting to stifle a laugh. “Although I am sure the soldiers will thank you for the display.”

There was a rough cheer that seemed to remind Evelyn that they had definitely not been alone in the field, and she started to laugh self-consciously. “Andraste’s singed nosehair, that is a bit more of a crowd than I anticipated.”

Killeen came striding across the field, then, and Higgins expected the Inquisitor to drop back into a defensive stance. She and Cullen shifted a bit, so he was standing behind her, and she met Killeen head on. The Lieutenant put out her hand and the Inquisitor took it in a firm clasp.

“A better show than last time, thanks, ser,” Killeen said loudly. “If you want practice, you’re welcome down here any day.”

Another cheer went up – this one containing many shouts of agreement – and Evelyn grinned at Killeen. “I will definitely keep that in mind, Lieutenant. Thank you.”

There was something about the way the Commander was standing behind the Inquisitor, something about the looks on both of their faces, that said to Higgins that their stance was intentional. As Killeen and Trevelyan broke apart, the Inquisitor seemed to lean back for just an instant, letting her back brush against the Commander’s breastplate before walking across the field to pick up her discarded daggers and coming to bid farewell to Eamon and Higgins on her way back to the keep. The Commander was watching her go – although his eyes snapped back to Higgins quickly when he felt he was being watched. He blushed minutely and then set about finishing Higgins’ shield lesson. The Commander was to come train every other day when he could, so he was hitting all parts of the unit rotation, and he set Higgins a series of goals to meet before the next time they were on the field together.

As the Commander strode back into the keep, obviously lost in thought, Killeen came to stand between Higgins and Eamon. “Did it work?” she asked the templar.

“You set that up?” Higgins hissed. Killeen elbowed him quiet.

“You weren’t kidding,” Eamon said, shaking his head. “It’s like the man is bewitched and is utterly clueless about it. Written all over his face.”

“Wait,” Higgins said, stepping away to turn and face Killeen. “You challenged the Inquisitor to a duel just so Eamon could see that the Commander is in love with her?”

Killeen shrugged. “We were talking about it while you were getting your lesson, once I saw her coming out to watch.” She turned back to Eamon. “See him watch her walk away?”

Eamon continued shaking his head. “The man is _gone_.”

“I hear Varric is running a betting pool for when they finally hook up,” Killeen offered, and Higgins threw up his hands.

“Why is it such a big damn deal?” he half-shouted at his Lieutenant. “Void take the man who actually cares whether or not the Inquisitor and the Commander _hook up_!”

“Well, now,” Eamon said smoothly, “fully half of my templars are aware of the situation, with _that_ little outburst.”

Higgins glanced around, realizing a bit belatedly that a _lot_ of people seemed to care, judging by the speculative looks he was getting.

“Oh, Maker’s balls, I’m going back to camp to wash up.” he said, storming off.

“Does it actually bother you?” Killeen asked, trotting to catch up to him.

“Does it bother me that they’re _obviously_ smitten with each other? No. Does it bother me that they’re likely going to be denied any and all privacy, and thus any attempt to act on their feelings? Yes. Yes, it bothers me. And it should bother you, too.”

Killeen started to protest, and Higgins wheeled on her. “When you and Brown got together, did anybody know? Did anybody give you any shit about it? Did you have to worry about your reputations, your job, the _fate of the world_? No. You had _privacy_. They _don’t_. Is there any chance you would have hooked up if everyone in camp would have known about it within the hour?”

“No,” Killeen breathed.

“Alright then. She wants me to treat her like a person: _this_ is how you treat a person. _You stay the fuck out of their business_. You respect their fucking privacy. And you _definitely_ don’t turn their romantic life into a game, an object of public debate.”

He turned on his heel and stalked away. Killeen didn’t catch back up.

 

*

 

“Nuggins,” she woke him up two days later. They had the day off, so technically he could ignore her. Add on that they’d worked Fourth Watch the night before, so he definitely hadn’t had his fill of sleep.

“What, Killer?” he groaned, rolling over.

“Remember what you said the other day? About how the Commander and the Inquisitor shouldn’t be a matter for public debate?”

“Yeah? What of it?”

“You were right.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Higgins asked, glaring up at the head poked through his tent flap. “You woke me up for _that?”_

“No. I woke you up because Dorian is going to set them up to play chess in the garden together, and I want you to help me seal the place off and give them some quiet.”

Higgins sat up off his cot. “Dorian is setting them up? You call that staying out of their business?”

“ _Dorian_ is all up in her business. _I_ am giving them some privacy. You can help me or not.”

Higgins threw himself back with a groan. “Fine. _Fine_. I’m coming. Let me get some pants and some food.”

“Second Bell is in an hour, you can catch lunch on the way in.”

“It isn’t even Second Bell yet? Killeen, you filthy gutter snipe.”

“Hey, go back to bed if you want to. I’m going to go make sure nobody interferes in Dorian’s plan to _give them some privacy_.”

Higgins managed to catch up to her as she got to the lunch line. “You’re sure this is happening?”

“Dorian and the Commander play chess frequently, I guess,” she said, keeping her voice low. “They’re playing today in the garden. He’s took me aside yesterday and asked me to help direct traffic away from the garden today, as he’s also asked _her_ to come down and play chess with him. He is confident that they’ll have a sit-down and play against each other, and have some time to themselves as _people_ , which is what you’re always harping on about, right?”

Higgins took his steak-and-leek pie from the kitchen staff with a word of thanks and a few exchanged pleasantries, following Killeen toward the garden. “So we’re not supposed to let anyone in?”

Killeen shrugged. “We’re supposed to keep people away from that corner as much as we can. They’re sitting in the gazebo in the back, sort of out of the way. We’ll just show up, look menacing, and if somebody looks like they’re overly amused or going to interrupt, we calmly explain to them that they need a different pastime.”

Higgins grunted. “This I can do.”

 

*

 

Evelyn smiled shyly at Higgins as she walked past the post he had set for himself, having seen Dorian and Cullen engrossed in their game of chess. Dorian was at his side minutes later, whispering harshly into his ear: “Anybody gives you any trouble, I will light them on fire from the roof,” before vanishing.

In the more than two hours Higgins and Killeen stood watch over Evelyn and Cullen in the garden, Higgins only had to scowl threateningly at one person, a visiting noble who recognized the chess players and moved to introduce herself. At Higgins’ glare and slow head shake, _no_ , she took a few staggering steps backward and then fled the garden.

Killeen had a little more action, but not by much. Higgins didn’t get a good look at who it was, but he saw Killeen with a man’s hand twisted behind his back walking quickly up the stairs towards the ramparts. Higgins waited with his breath held to hear the scream of the man being thrown over the side, but it never came. Instead, some ten minutes later, Killeen came back down with a grim smile and a wink for Higgins. She gestured up, and Higgins managed to look in time to see a man’s form fleeing across the battlements.

They stayed hidden as their unknowing charges finished their game and played another before slowing walking out of the garden together. As they came into closer proximity with other people, they slowly stiffened and drifted apart. Dorian reappeared as they passed through the portal into the main hall to bump elbows with the two soldiers.

“Masterfully done,” he crowed softly. “I’ve been telling these fools for _weeks_ that they need to express their feelings to _each other_ instead of to _me_ , and by Andraste I’m going to give them the opportunity.”

“Trevelyan saw me,” Higgins told him in a low tone, “when she was coming in.”

Dorian shrugged. “I don’t care. She definitely wasn’t looking for you when she left, and _that_ was what mattered.”

“Fantastic,” Killeen muttered. “Now, we’ve got First tonight, so if you’re done with the schemes for today, I’ve got a long snuggle session planned with my cot.”

“Enjoy your rest!” Dorian cried, still preening over his victory. “It is well earned, both of you.”

“I’m stopping by the kitchen to steal a snack for later,” Higgins said as they left the garden, “and then I’m sleeping until Fourth Bell. You’re letting me be late to Watch tonight, Killer.”

“Grab me a sweetroll and it’s a deal,” the Lietenant agreed, and they started the long walk back to camp.


	29. Chasing The Wild Goose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nuggins has his fingers in far too many pies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took us nearly 30 chapters to get there, but here it is: the direct overlap with Chapter 7 from Of Fear & Lyrium.

Two days after the guarded chess match, Higgins and Killeen were on for Second Watch again, that six hour span from breakfast to lunch; but Higgins was up and running before even the kitchen staff. Leliana had mentioned that she would have the report on Lieutenant Brown’s next of kin ready by First Bell that day, and Higgins meant to get it before Killeen ever knew it existed. He was up, washed, dressed, and in the keep by the time the doors to the kitchen swung open and breakfast was served. He charged up the stairs instead: three flights to the door to the main hall, then two ridiculously long flights up to the ravencote to meet Leliana.

“Oh, Master Nuggins,” she said with a quirk of a smile. “You’re early.”

“Sorry, ser, wanted to make sure I was the one who picked it up.”

“No need to apologize, I finished it last night and have it waiting for you.” She handed him a sheaf of papers, the top sheet blank to cover the information within. “I would have put it in a scroll, but I know it’s ultimately for Cullen and he prefers his paperwork left flat.”

Higgins accepted the papers with a nod of thanks, although he was determined not to be seen looking at their contents until he was someplace more private.

“Was there someone in particular you didn’t want to have see this report?” Leliana asked carefully. Higgins felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Such an innocent question, but he knew exactly what information she was looking for.

“Everyone, honestly,” he answered, looking her dead in the eye. “If Brownie didn’t want anyone to know, then I want to respect his privacy. We’re only looking into it to notify next of kin.”

“I see,” she said flatly. Higgins hoped she hadn’t read anything in his tone he hadn’t meant to tell her.

“Thank you, ser, I’ll get this to Cullen as soon as possible.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Of course.”

Higgins fled down the stairs to the library, casting a quick look around. Dorian was lounging in a chair in his little alcove. “Looking for somewhere to hide, Nuggins?”

Higgins hissed at him. “Yes. I’m not here.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed happily. “Ooh, this has got to be good.”

“Lieutenant Brown was vetted by the Nightingale when he was promoted," Higgins whispered, voice barely louder than a breath. “Nobody knew who his next was kin was, even where he was from. _Nobody._ ”

Dorian’s eyebrows rose. “Surely _somebody_ knew…”

“If someone had known, we wouldn’t have needed to ask the Nightingale for this, now, would we?” Higgins said, sitting on the chair Dorian quickly vacated for him. “I only need a moment.”

“Of course,” Dorian said, and then did something …odd… with his hands. Higgins ignored him, flipping quickly through the papers.

Brown was from Gwaren. His grandfather had married an Antivan – the daughter of a merchant who had been in the port city for an extended period of time. Brown’s father had done the same – meaning he was ¾ Antivan with a Fereldan name. A younger son in a family of traders, he had trained up as a soldier under the idea of defending the family business. His mother had other ideas, and arranged a marriage for him to a _nice Antivan girl_ , the report said in quotation marks. Higgins glanced up to show it to Dorian-

-and saw Dorian having a conversation with Killeen. Higgins realized he couldn’t hear any of it, and Killeen didn’t seem to notice him. It must have been whatever Dorian had done with his hands. Higgins tried to read their lips for a moment but didn’t have the right angle or light, and went back to the report.

Brown had left Gwaren after a fight with his parents and refused any further contact, fearing that correspondence with any members of his family would lead to his mother determining his whereabouts and sending his _betrothed_ ’s family after him. He had headed seemingly straight for the Temple of Sacred Ashes, perhaps making the pilgrimage out of a sudden lack of direction. While he was there, Commander Cullen had arrived with the beginnings of the Inquisition, and Brown had been – quite literally – the first to sign up.

Higgins was suddenly very grateful he had kept this report from Killeen. How would she take the knowledge that he was fleeing an arranged marriage? Had she known? Would she feel used? Higgins realized Killeen’s inner workings weren’t something he was familiar enough with to hazard a guess. He waited until she left – going up to the ravencote – before reaching out and tugging on Dorian’s tunic.

“Go. Run!” Dorian breathed, half throwing Higgins down the stairs. Higgins followed orders and bolted to the kitchen, getting into the breakfast line after concealing the sheaf of papers within the layers of his armor. Killeen found him as he neared the front of the line.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

Higgins gestured at the line. “Got up. Got dressed. Came to get breakfast. We’ve got First today, Lieut.”

“I _know_ we have… did you go up to see the Nightingale this morning?”

Higgins made a show of leaning sideways to look all the way up to the tower where Leliana made her lair.

“Awful long walk for awful early in the morning, Killer,” he said. The line moved again, and he was being given hot fruit and oats and a steaming mug of spiced tea. As he sipped on the beverage, he pretended for a moment that Killeen wasn’t there.

She did not catch the hint. “So that’s it?”

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Higgins asked. “Are you sleeping alright?”

“I- yes. I am, thank you. Sorry, I’ll leave you to your breakfast. You taking runner today?”

“I am,” he answered. “Who you giving me to break in?”

“Gibbs, Heftner, and Snyder,” she responded.

Higgins rolled his eyes. “You mad at me, Lieut?”

Killeen barked a cough. “They’re the next three volunteers, sorry. Doing it in the order of preference. They’ll probably only be runners the once, for the training.”

Higgins grunted. “Fair enough. Want me at the gate at the Bell, or should I head up to the Commander’s office?”

“Gate, so I can physically hand you those three chucklefucks to babysit.”

“Thanks, Killer. That’s great,” he sighed.

She laughed and moved on, Higgins’ sidestepping of her question apparently forgotten.

It was nearly an hour after the bell before Higgins had his three trainees for the day doing what they were supposed to do so he could try to locate the Commander, who was strangely not in his office this morning. He finally caught up to him on the battlements, making a morning inspection, and was astonished to see the Inquisitor calmly following in Cullen’s wake. The Commander laughed quickly about something, and it seemed they were deeply in conversation.

The papers were burning a hole in his pocket, and Higgins fished the sheaf out while reminding himself that he was the least likely to offend the Inquisitor by interrupting. He walked straight up to the Commander, saluted, and handed him the sheaf. “The Brown report, Commander.”

Cullen simply nodded at him, but Evelyn shot him a look of mixed excitement and panic that was immediately wiped from her features. Higgins felt like she was sharing a secret with him, and he fell back to a respectful distance. He kept expecting them to split, but the Inquisitor followed Cullen around the keep and then to his office. By the end of the next hour, all anyone could talk about was how the Inquisitor was apparently spending the whole day with the Commander, in idle conversation. There was no war council meeting scheduled for the day, and as far as anyone could tell, neither Leliana nor Josephine had sent for either Evelyn or Cullen all morning, which was simply unheard of. Every report or missive being taken to the Commander was fought over, as everyone in Killeen’s company wanted a chance to go into the office and see it for themselves.

Once soldiers from other companies started coming up and inventing reasons to go in, Killeen put her foot down.

“You’d better have a signed letter from your Lieutenant to come into the Keep,” she said, posting herself at the gate. “Anybody not in my unit who wanders in here has privy duty for the next _week_ , so help me.”

Higgins set himself to intercepting anyone who had valid reason to be in the keep but no real need to interrupt the Commander. Sutherland came out of the tavern to see for himself, and Higgins found himself threatening the man. “I am not even kidding, Sutherland. I will throw you off the battlements, I swear.”

“Maker’s balls, Higgins, it’s not that big of a deal. And, besides, I have this report to give to the Commander…”

“I’ll have it sent in. Thank you, Sutherland,” Higgins replied. Snyder was trying to sneak by him, and Higgins shot out a hand and grabbed a fist of the recruit’s tunic. “This. To the Commander. Now. Run.”

Snyder ran.

“See?” Higgins said to Sutherland. “Done. Off you go.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Sutherland asked.

“You should be worried about what’s about to get into _you_ , Killeen said, suddenly appearing on the stairs. “My right boot!”

Sutherland beat a hasty retreat.

“I think I have everyone scared back to the encampment,” she said. “They still in there?”

Higgins rolled his eyes. “You would have heard about it if they emerged.”

Killeen laughed. “True. Look, it’s thirty minutes to Second Bell. Go and inform the Commander of shift change, and I’ll wait at the Gate for Eamon to come up so I can warn him about what’s going on.”

“Sure thing, Lieut,” Higgins replied, and made his second trip into the Commander’s office of the day.

“Commander, sorry to interrupt,” Higgins said as he entered. “Killeen sent me to inform you of shift change, as it’s approaching Second Bell. She’s waiting to brief Eamon, and I can take her any information you need disseminated if need be.”

“Not necessary, Higgins, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” the Commander replied, dismissing him.

“I have an errand you could run, if you’re available, soldier,” Evelyn said as neutrally as she could manage. Higgins did not miss her not using his name, which he was _damn_ sure she knew.

“Absolutely, your Worship,” he enunciated clearly.

She rolled her eyes. “I need my left-hand dagger fetched from Master Harrit, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course, my lady. I will return shortly. Would you like for me to have lunch sent up as well?”

“Oh, a light snack would be lovely, thanks.”

Higgins bowed and walked out the east door, that he rarely had reason to use, and crossed the causeway to the main hall. Master Harrit and Dagna were both known to him only by reputation, and he stopped just long enough to introduce himself and explain his errand before taking the dagger and leaving. There was a side passage to the kitchens from the undercroft, and he paused to ask for a light lunch to take to the Inquisitor on his way though. He was given a basket of food and a rap on the knuckles from the cook, and then he returned to the Commander’s office. He noticed when he got there that the Commander’s desk had moved and the Inquisitor was settling into a pile of blankets in the corner opposite from him. She took the dagger – and the lunch – with a happy smile.

“Why thank you. I understand your Watch is over, but I have need of your services, if you could be bothered?”

“Absolutely, Inquisitor,” Higgins replied, allowing himself to show his confusion over her manner. The Commander had never actually seen them interact, not since the earlier days in Haven, at least, but surely he knew they were something akin to friends?

“I would like for you to go out to the encampment, where I believe Solas and Dorian are spending the afternoon assisting a few soldiers with lingering complaints from the loss of Haven,” she said delicately. “Please inform Dorian that I have taken the steps he advocated and give him this note from me regarding the outcome of the experiment I am assisting him with.”

Higgins grinned, a theory for her obtuseness suddenly presenting itself.

“From there, please find Aieyla and let her know I must cancel what engagements she might have made for me this afternoon.”

“Of course, your Worship.”

“Not done! First Dorian, then Aieyla. Third, please take this – she handed him a small, poorly wrapped package – up to my quarters and leave it on my desk. Last, if you could report to the Nightingale that I am in a meeting with the Commander and will likely miss our appointment this afternoon, I would appreciate it. I understand you’re already off duty-“ the Second Bell started to chime “-but I will make sure Cabot puts you on my tab this evening if you would help me discharge my obligations.”

Higgins managed only to grin at her. “Absolutely, Inquisitor,” and he beat a hasty retreat.

He had gotten down the steps to the grass of the courtyard when he heard Evelyn shriek in Cullen’s office. “Are you insane? Is this what happens when I’m away? Thank the Maker I decided to put a sharper watch on you!”

Higgins picked up his pace, as all eyes swiveled up towards the angry voices above them.

“INQUISITOR,” Cullen’s booming voice responded, in a volume that rattled glass and could have stopped the archdemon in its tracks. “I DID NOT ASK YOUR OPINION.”

Higgins was out the gate and headed for the encampment before anyone thought to ask him what they were arguing over – since he had been in the office only moments before.

He took his time wandering the encampment, needing nearly half an hour to find Dorian and Solas.

“Sparkler,” he greeted the mage upon locating him. Solas wasn’t readily visible, but Higgins thought he could hear his voice coming from the inside of the tent Dorian stood beside.

“Nuggins,” Dorian responded evenly. “Honestly, though, why doesn’t your nickname make any sense?”

“Ask Evelyn to sing it for you,” Higgins replied. “When she’s done snotting herself laughing, you’ll understand.”

“Ah, a song. Of course you’re named for a song.”

“Of course? Why of course?”

“You’re something simple and common and accessible that brings her a stupid amount of joy.”

Higgins just stood there, blinking at the mage, for what ended up being a painfully long time.

“Did your mind just burst?” Dorian asked eventually.

“Yep.” Higgins answered.

“Sorry about that. Were you seeking me out for a reason, or is this a social call?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. The Inquisitor is meeting with the Commander, and has appropriated me as her runner. I am working through a series of errands she has set before me, and finding you was the first. She wanted me to inform you that she had taken the steps you advocated, and wanted me to give you _this note_ regarding the results of an experiment she is undertaking with you.”

“Ah. Is the paper blank?”

Higgins laughed. “It is.”

“Fantastic. How long have they been together today?”

“All day, as far as I can tell. I found them on the battlements this morning, and I hear they took breakfast together in the main hall. Killeen and I were attempting to limit their interruptions once they settled in his office, but I think she took matters into her own hands.”

“How’s that?”

“After she sent me on this blatantly obvious series of errands, she started screaming some angry nonsense at the Commander, and he bellowed back something about not asking her opinion. They likely have the whole keep convinced they’re arguing. I know better, but I’ve been conveniently waylaid for the afternoon.”

“Goodness, what a completely inconvenient turn of events. It is almost like they _want_ to be alone together. How inexplicably odd.”

“So, with that, I am off to find Aieyla, presumably to tell her where Evelyn is so she doesn’t get scolded later.”

“And, let me guess, you’re taking something stupid all the way up to her rooms?”

Higgins unrolled the loosely-wrapped chunk of driftwood she had handed him.

“My goodness, was she planning ahead?”

Higgins turned the lightly polished stick in his hands until the words carved into it were visible: _Nuggins, Nuggins! His heart pure and true_.

“Ah, a bit of your song, I suppose?” Dorian deduced.

Higgins rolled his eyes. “I’m confident there’s a pile of driftwood in her office that I will set this in and none will be the wiser. She mentioned her desk, where I suspect there will be something else painfully obvious lying about.”

“You sound positively jaded,” Dorian chided. “The lady won’t appreciate you seeing through her so easily.”

Higgins shrugged. “She should make it harder, then.”

“Very well, then, off you go! Find Mistress Aieyla and prevent little Evie from receiving a scolding.”

With a laugh, Higgins started the long walk back into the keep. He was approached no less than ten times about what had transpired in the Commander’s office, but his answer was the same each time: “Sorry, all that was said in my presence was the errands the Inquisitor needed me to run. I’ve got three more people to speak to for the Herald before I’m off watch. Have to go, sorry.”

Aieyla was sitting in the little office she had put together in the base of the tower that housed the Inquisitor’s quarters. She and Mahvrin didn’t share a large space, but it was undoubtedly more than they’d ever had in the alienage. Their apartment was divided into three rooms: the front room containing two desks, Aieyla’s to the left and Mahvrin’s to the right; a second room for their bed and personal possessions, and a tiny adjoining chamber for their bath and toilet. Aieyla focused on the correspondence and scheduling for the Inquisitor, while Mahvrin had rapidly become the unofficial Steward of Skyhold. Josephine as the Ambassador handled the actual interactions with visiting nobility, and made the decisions that shaped the image Skyhold presented, but the carrying out of those decisions and the day-to-day running of the keep all fell to Mahvrin. He met with Josephine daily for special instructions, but the cooks and housecleaners and butlers and workmen all went through Mahvrin. Ser Morris, the Quartermaster, also worked closely with Mahvrin, handling the ordering and logistics of getting things to Skyhold for Mahvrin and the small army of staff to use.

Higgins tapped on the door to their apartment, although it stood open. Aieyla glanced up with a smile. “Higgins! Welcome! Have you seen our little home yet?”

“I have, Aieyla, but you were out at the time. Mahvrin showed it to me as soon as you had it assigned. I like what you’ve done with it.”

The desks were ancient and sturdy, like the Commander’s, and likely also salvaged from forgotten corners of the keep and restored by carpenters. Aieyla rubbed a hand across it lovingly. “I never thought I would be able to claim a place like this.”

“It suits you,” Higgins said as he entered the room and sat down across from her.

She beamed at him. “Why thank you.”

“I’m actually not here for a social call, apologies.”

“No? Have you news of our truant Inquisitor?”

Higgins laughed. “I have. She is in what seems to be an all-day conference with the Commander, and has sent me to tell you she will miss any engagements you have made for her this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Aieyla said happily, “alright. Thank you for the information.”

“She didn’t have any engagements this afternoon, did she?” Higgins asked slyly.

Aieyla shook her head. “Not a one. But it is good to know she is finally taking my advice and _talking_ to the man. And now I will know to not go looking for her.”

“Higgins!” Mahvrin exclaimed as he entered the apartment. “Have you eaten?”

“Not since breakfast, honestly,” Higgins said, pulling himself out of the chair. “I have two more errands for the Inquisitor before I’m technically off Watch, so I should-“

“Nonsense!” the Steward said, brandishing a huge tray of food. “I have more than enough for all of us. The kitchen always sends me too much when I say I’m bringing Aieyla lunch. Cook thinks my wife is too thin, doesn’t understand elven proportions.”

Higgins tried to beg off, until he say exactly how much food Mahvrin actually had – enough for four or five, easily.

“Stay,” Aieyla insisted. “I will say I commandeered your services if anyone asks after you.”

It was another hour before Higgins began the long climb up to the Inquisitor’s apartment for his third errand of the afternoon, his very full stomach slowing his steps. The door at the top was unlocked, and the room itself was full of brilliant sunlight, the late afternoon rays streaming in through the balcony doors and windows.

As Higgins had expected, there was a small pile of driftwood near the desk, and he laid the wrapped bit she had given him on the top of the pile. He could see others had writing on them, and a minor inspection told him they were all single lines from songs she had heard thus far in her travels. He found a piece that had _In memory she sings to him of a time before the rain_ written across it, and he laid that upon her desk, remembering the night on the Lake at Haven, her head on Glennon’s shoulder and her hand in his.

There was a letter on the desk, the only thing out of place. Confident he understood her motives, Higgins sat down at the desk and unfolded the paper.

_Cheeky monkey! Reading a note that isn’t addressed to you!_

_You are clever, and I am sure you have seen right through my deception. I am also confident you don’t need to be asked to keep your observations to yourself._

_Now that I know you can find my quarters, I have a formal request:_

_Just like the night you knocked on my door in Haven and called me to task, you must be willing to do that here. I am so separate from everyone, here at the top of the tower; do not let it be anything more than physical distance._

_Also, all titles are forbidden in my quarters. Here I am never anything more than:_

_Evelyn_

Higgins folded the note up tightly and tucked it under his bracer with a smile. He was back down the stairs in a flash and then across the main hall to the stairs up to the ravencote for the second time that day. Leliana was engaged in a rather heated conversation – speaking in elven, of all things – with one of her scouts. Higgins stood aside and waited for them to finish.

“Nuggins!” the Nightingale said happily when the scout was dismissed. “Imagine my surprise when _Lieutenant Killeen_ came here this morning looking for the report that you arrived so promptly to retrieve! I did not tell her who had picked it up, only that it was already sent to the Commander.”

Higgins nodded. “Thank you, ser.”

“Would you happen to have any idea why Killeen would be looking for the report on Lieutenant Brown?”

Higgins kept his features composed. “There is nothing I could tell you that the Commander couldn’t, ser, and he’s the one what ordered the report.”

The smile was gone from Leliana’s face, and a coldly calculating one took its place. “Interesting. Not a single tell. Are you in the wrong line of work, Master Nuggins?”

Higgins didn’t have to fake the confusion on his face; there was no reason to think the Nightingale knew about Brown and Killeen. “I’m just a farmboy turned soldier, ser. I’m here on the Inquisitor’s orders? She is in a meeting with the Commander and has sent me to apologize for her missing your appointment this afternoon.”

Leliana’s eyebrows show up to her hairline. “She sent _you_ to tell me _that_?”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins replied, striking his fist against his breastplate.

“Answer me honestly, Higgins, would you like to shift positions? You would not need this shield training you’ve started were you to join my scouts.”

Higgins lifted his chin and stood a bit straighter. “It is important to me, Lady Nightingale, to wield Glennon’s shield with the same honor and skill that he did. I’m sure you understand the need to honor a man’s memory.”

Leliana sat behind her desk and leaned back, crossing her arms and contemplating Higgins’ face. “Oooh, well said, Master Nuggins. I do, indeed, understand that need. And I understand you’re referring to more than just Glennon when you speak of honor, but your admirable defense of _Brownie’s_ honor as well. Was I your last errand from the Inquisitor? You should have been off duty hours ago.”

“You were, ser,” he replied. “I already saw Dorian and Aieyla.”

“Wonderful. You are dismissed, then, soldier.”

Higgins saluted the spymaster and fled the tower, making a beeline for the tavern where he hoped to meet Killeen.


	30. The Templar's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Higgins Song](http://themarydragon.tumblr.com/post/137054428173/dissatisfied-doodles-song-that-the-lovely-and)

“Drinks on the Inquisitor tonight,” Cabot said by way of greeting when Higgins reached the bar.

“How’d you know that already?” Higgins asked him, surprised.

Cabot just stared at him as he poured a tankard of dark brown ale and handed it to the soldier.

“Killeen is upstairs with Maryden,” he said, and then pointedly turned his back.

Higgins had no words for the taciturn bartender other than thanks, and he made his way quickly up to the second floor.

“Nuggins!” Killeen called as he cleared the stairs. “Quick, before anybody else gets here!”

Higgins hurried over. “Any news?”

“Last I heard, they were still in there. Eamon’s group was sending somebody in at the top and bottom of every hour, given how pissed off they were at each other.”

Higgins glances around the bar. Cabot had said Maryden was with Killeen, but he didn’t see the minstrel anywhere.

“It was faked,” he said, in the quietest whisper he could manage, mouth covered so no one could read his lips.

Killeen, for her part, didn’t verbally respond. Her eyes bulged a bit and she leaned forward eagerly, but she kept her peace.

“Knuckles sent me on a goose chase all over Skyhold, and as soon as I walked away they were shrieking at each other. It was staged, to give them some privacy.” Higgins held his mug up to his face. “Dorian, Aieyla, and Leliana all seemed to know about it. Knuckles sent me to talk to all of them, and the conversation was essentially the same. _She’s finally talking to him_ , more or less. Guess she’s been holding a candle for him for just as long as he’s held a torch for her. Only everybody knows it _except them_.”

Killeen dropped her head to her table with an audible _thunk_. “You’re sworn to secrecy, right?”

Higgins dug the note from Evelyn out of his armor and handed it to Killeen.

Killen read it over three or four times before handing it back with a smile. “So she wanted you to know.”

Higgins nodded. “And keep it to myself. She saw me in the garden the other day, she _has_ to know we know.”

Killeen gestured at the note Higgins was already stuffing back into his bracer. “She obviously does.”

“What did I miss?” Maryden asked, arriving at the table with a beer for both her and Killeen.

Higgins and Killeen exchanged a look. “Nothing the Inquisitor has freed me to discuss,” Higgins said plainly.

Maryden scoffed but accepted his secrecy with a tip of her mug. Higgins and Killeen followed suit.

“I finished it, finally,” the minstrel told him a moment later.

“Finished…?”

“Your song,” she laughed, pushing Higgins’ shoulder.

“ _My_ song?” Higgins asked, blinking.

“Well, yours and Killeen’s and Eamon’s. What you were composing at the fire as we fled Haven.”

“You…. turned those things we said into a song?”

“Well, first, they were lyrics. You said so yourself,” Maryden said crisply. “Second, like I told you that night, if you meant them to be private you wouldn’t have been discussing it loudly around a campfire in the middle of the afternoon. Third, I told you right then that I was writing it down. If you didn’t want me to put it to music you should have stopped me then.”

“No, no, I’m sure its fine, Maryden,” Killeen interrupted Higgins’ attempt to speak. “We would love to hear it.”

“We have to wait for Eamon to get here,” Maryden said with a wave. “It’s better in his voice. I’m calling it _The Templar’s Lament_.”

“You’ve taught it to Eamon?” Higgins asked, swallowing his trepidation.

“Well, no, but he’ll learn it quick. With that voice, and templar training? There’s no chance he wasn’t in a choir at _some_ point during his years in the chantry.”

They didn’t have to wait long. They were halfway through their second round when Eamon and Aillis pounded up to the second floor of the Herald’s Rest to meet them. Aillis and Eamon seemed to have a relationship similar to that of Higgins and Killeen, and the four of them had settled easily into friendship.

“What news from the front?” Killeen asked as Higgins called down for two more beers to be added to his tab and brought up for their new arrivals.

“Higgins has a tab?” Aillis asked.

“Inquisitor is buying, since she sent me on a wild goose chase this afternoon when I should have been off duty.”

“Leliana came and fetched the Commander and the Inquisitor, maybe an hour ago. Took them into the main hall. Rumor has it they went up to the Inquisitor’s quarters, but it seems more likely they would have aimed for Aieyla’s office.”

Higgins shook his head, and pointed upward. “Inquisitor has a rule – no titles in her apartment. Likely they went up to have a conversation off the books, although what it may be I couldn’t tell you.”

“That a new rule?” Eamon asked after thanking the barmaid for the mug she’d brought him and Aillis.

“I heard of it today,” Higgins admitted.

“That go along with things you haven’t gotten permission to speak of?” Maryden asked archly.

Higgins smiled at her. “Yes, yes it does. Thank you, Maryden.”

“You ready to sing this for me, Eamon?” Maryden asked, pulling her lute out and settling her back against the wall.

Eamon shrugged. “You seemed to think it was important, so I’m game.”

Maryden handed him a sheet of music, and he studied it for a moment, becoming suddenly pale.

“Will this get me killed?” he asked Maryden, Higgins’ heart racing when he saw the seriousness of the templar's expression.

“No more so than my song about Empress Celene put a target on me,” Maryden said with a shrug. “Its been decades since the last time a bard was put to death for a song. I don’t feel like the Commander is the kind of man who would reinstate that sort of doctrine.”

Eamon took a long pull on his beer and then motioned for Maryden to start.

Eamon’s voice was the rich baritone hinted at by his speaking voice. Two lines in, the bar fell silent to listen. By the second verse, he attracted a crowd. By the last repeat of the refrain, he had fifteen people singing along.

_I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful_

_Toying somewhere between love and abuse_

_Calling to join them the wretched and joyful_

_Shaking the wings of their terrible youths_

_Freshly disowned in some frozen devotion_

_No more alone or myself could I be_

_Looks like a strain to the arms it were open_

_No shortage of sordid, no protest from me_

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

_With her auburn hair, her arms hard and lean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

_Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh I_

_Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet_

_Fresh from the fields, all feeder and fertile_

_It’s bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet._

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

_With her auburn hair, her arms hard and lean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

_Unleash this confusion, I’ll wander in defeat_

_Wonder how better now having survived_

_Jarring of judgment and reason depletes_

_The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth – I’m alive_

_With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

_With her auburn hair, her arms hard and lean_

_She’s the Angel of Small Death, our Commander’s Queen_

 

The song seemed to hang in the air for a minute before anyone reacted, and then it was not with applause. One by one, everyone in the bar approached Maryden and Eamon, shaking their hands and thanking them. Beyond that, no one spoke for a long time, the Herald’s Rest as quiet as it could be while remaining open.

 _“La petite mort,_ ” Aillis said, one eybrow quirked. “I’m not Orlesian but I know what _small death_ means. So will the Inquisitor.”

Maryden blushed a vivid red. “With the Wicked Grace cards Eamon brought back, I figured that would be overlooked.”

“Explain,” Killeen said flatly.

Aillis looked askance at Maryden before calmly saying to Killeen, “While it can _arguably_ mean that feeling you get when you die a little bit inside – when something terrible happens or you lose something important to your sense of self – it more generally is used as a polite reference to orgasm.”

“ _Maryden_ ,” Higgins hissed, shocked. “You can’t call the Inquisitor that!”

“That’s not how I meant it! And it’s too late now, it’s out. All those people heard it, it’s out of my control.”

Higgins and Killeen dropped their heads simultaneously to the table with identical _thuds_.

“Besides potential argument over one little phrase, what did you think?” Maryden asked, her voice saccharine.

“Too catchy,” Higgins grumbled, still facedown on the table. “It will be everywhere in the encampment by dawn.”

“Agreed. If I wasn’t afraid for my neck, Maryden, I would call it a sure success,” Killeen concurred.

“I don’t know,” Eamon said slowly, causing Killeen and Higgins to lift their heads marginally off the table to peer up at him and drawing a laugh from Aillis. “There are enough of those cards circulating from Redcliffe already – I hear the last rotation out to the Hinterlands has been shipping them back as quickly as they can get their hands on them. She’s pretty universally known as the Angel of Death, so it probably won’t cause a stir.”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Higgins said.

“No, we won’t,” Killeen gritted. “Because Maryden is never singing this song in the tavern. Ever. And Eamon is never singing it in the tavern ever _again_.”

“It’s already out, Killeen,” Maryden disagreed, shaking her head. “A dozen people already know the chorus.”

“Sing it in the encampment if you have to, where the Herald – and more importantly _The Nightingale_ – will never hear it.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence at the thought of the Nightingale.

“Speaks Orlesian,” Higgins said, ticking points off on his fingers. “Understands hidden meanings. Knows all of us well enough to guess _exactly_ who might have been involved in this. _Is_ the kind of person who would kill over a song.”

Killeen and Higgins exchanged a glance. As one, they drained their beers and fled the tavern.

 

*

 

The song was known by every man and woman in the army encampment by Third Bell the next day.

And, much to his dismay, it was universally referred to as “Higgins’ Song.”

“I wasn’t involved!” he complained to Killeen halfway through Third Watch. “Why isn’t it Eamon’s Song? He _sang_ the bloody thing. And he’s a templar! The very start of it is _clearly_ from a templar’s perspective.”

“Preaching to the choir, kid,” Killeen said disinterestedly.

“You’re the one who got a mouthful of her breath,” Jenson said the next day in the lunch line. “It’s obviously about you.”

“But it’s not! It’s not _about me_ and I don’t _want it to be_.”

Jenson – now Lieutenant Jenson – shrugged. “Out of our hands, now, Nuggins.”

“Maryden, you’ve got to put a stop to this.” he said after waving goodbye to the Inquisitor and her team at the gates, as they left for the Exalted Plains.

“Its got a life of its own, now, Higgins. I wish I could say I was sorry, but at least they’re attributing it to me. If this makes it easier for the rest of my songs about the Inquisition to gain ground, then it’s well worth whatever heat we catch.”

Before the Inquisitor could return, Higgins made the trek up to her rooms in the middle of the night, while on First Watch, and sat at her desk to leave her a letter.

_Evelyn,_

_Killeen would kill me for starting anything out like that, even if it is in your quarters._

_I don’t care if the Commander skins me or the Nightingale guts me. But the idea that I could disappoint you again is one I cannot live with._

_They’re calling it “Higgins’ Song” but I neither wrote it, condoned it, nor spread it. I’ve done what I could to kill it, but everyone says it has a life of its own now._

_If you require a further explanation, you know how to find me._

_~~-Morty~~ _ _–Higgins_

_Please don’t make me use my first name._

He folded it and sat it on her desk. Anyone could find it there, though; Aieyla, Mahvrin, the Nightingale… Imagining Leliana coming in and opening it set his teeth on edge. He cast about for a place to hide it, wanting it to be someplace only Evelyn would find it but without invading her privacy to put it there.

There was someone standing on the stairs.

The room was dark but for the lantern Higgins had brought with him, and so the form on the opposite side of the room was completely shadowed. It could be literally anyone, and Higgins’ heart leapt into his throat.

“What a pleasant surprise. Good evening, Nuggins!” Dorian’s unmistakable voice flooded Higgins with relief.

“Thank the Maker it’s you.”

“Afraid of what goes bump in the night, are we? Unfortunate for one in your line of work.”

“Afraid of the Spymaster, more like.”

Dorian came into the weak light of the lantern, nodding. “Justifiable. What are you doing up here?”

“The Inquisitor-“

“Evelyn. No titles up here, ‘tis a rule she’s a stickler about.”

Higgins swallowed. “Killeen would beat me… _Evelyn_ asked me to never hesitate to tell her if something was bothering me. But she’s not here, so I thought… Well, there’s paper here for a reason, right?”

Dorian nodded. “You have a more valid reason than I. I simply missed her, and this is the place it is easiest to remember her.”

“Why didn’t you go with her, this trip?”

“Solas had something he wanted to see in the ‘Plains. It’s a mess there, layers of wars and massacres leaving the Veil a flimsy thing indeed. Much more his forte. That, and he needed a break from exorcizing nightmare demons. He’s found six, did you know?”

Higgins shook his head. “Did I…?”

“No, you had not attracted a demon. Nor will you, as Solas was kind enough to ward your dreams.”

“I… don’t really remember that night very well.”

“You were very heavily drugged,” Dorian said, dropping into the chaise. “That’s the desired result when _most_ people consume intoxicants, as I understand it.”

Higgins hefted the note after a long moment of silence. “I need a place to put this where she’ll find it but nobody else will disturb it.”

“Aieyla’s office,” Dorian replied immediately. “The woman adores you. Tell her you don’t want anyone to see it but Evelyn and she’ll guard it with her life. Worst case, Aieyla might read it, but definitely no one else. I’m not sure there’s anything Evelyn knows that Aieyla doesn’t, so even if she doesn’t read it, she’ll likely be told.

Higgins nodded, tucking the letter into the neck of his breastplate. “I’ll take it to her at the end of my Watch, she’s usually up early.”

“May I ask… is there anything I could help with, in Evelyn’s absence?”

Higgins shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

“How is it, then?”

Higgins stood in the middle of the room, torn between simply walking away and opening up to the Tevinter. The mage had always seemed willing to be an ally, and he definitely had the Inquisitor’s ear. With a sigh, Higgins took the letter from his armor and handed it to the Tevinter, squeezing his eyes shut until he felt the paper lifted from his hand.

“You inspired a song?” Dorian asked at length, handing back the note.

Higgins nodded. “Sort of. Mother Giselle encouraged us to talk about our experiences, after Haven, and one day at the fire, I did just that. So did… a couple other people. And it got written down and… twisted. Somehow. Its complicated. If you heard it, you’d understand.”

“And where would I hear this apparent masterpiece?”

Higgins rolled his eyes. “Maryden wrote it. Killeen won’t let her perform it in the keep, though. She’s being asked out to the encampment nearly every day to perform it, though, since Eamon won’t anymore.”

“Was Knight-Lieutenant Eamon involved?” Dorian asked, and Higgins silently cursed the slip of the tongue.

“Maryden says it’s written for his range, and had him sing it in the ‘Rest, the first time it was played.”

“Ah, I see. And if I were to ask her about it, I would inquire after Higgins’ Song?”

“It’s properly called The Templar’s Lament,” Higgins said, his voice dropping into a whisper.

“Which is far less damning to you, I’m sure,” Dorian said mildly.

“She… she just wants to be normal,” Higgins muttered, sitting down heavily on the chest at the foot of her bed. “That’s all she ever asked of me, of anyone. A chance to _live_ , like anybody else. She’s saved me, saved all of us, doesn’t she deserve that much? To not be the subject of gossip and tavern songs?”

Dorian crossed the room to him and laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “She deserves far more than any of us can give to her. And she might surprise you; she’s such a collector of songs, maybe she’ll be honored.”

Higgins hung his head. “Not bloody likely,” he said, and rose to tread wearily from the room.

He kept up a slow circuit through the main hall and adjoining areas that night, and was able to present himself at Aieyla’s door promptly at First Bell. She opened the door with alacrity.

“Something the matter?” she asked, quickly wrapping the sash of her dressing gown around her waist.

“I need Ev- the Inquisitor to see this when she returns, but no one else. I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving it out in her rooms.”

Aieyla took the letter from Higgins with a concerned look and crossed to her table. She drew out a block of wax and carefully sealed the letter before locking it in the top drawer of her desk. “Is everything alright?” she asked as she finished and Higgins sagged against the doorway in relief.

Higgins shook his head. “I just… needed to explain before anything got out of hand.”

Aieyla’s brows drew together, but she nodded understanding. “Very well. I will do what I can for you.”

“Thank you. Sorry to disturb you,” he said, turning and making his way quickly back to the encampment and the relative safety of his tent. The song bearing his name was being hummed by no less than seven people he passed on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my love to the genius who is Hozier, from whom I took these lyrics and twisted them slightly to fit my circumstances.


	31. Walking in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen makes everyone's life miserable and it's all Evelyn's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlaps with Of Fear of Lyrium: Chapter 9 (Fallen)

Somehow, miraculously, the song stayed in the encampment. If it was hummed in the keep, it was only by soldiers and templars on Guard rotation. None of the powers-that-be had approached Higgins about it by the time the Inquisitor was due to return from the Exalted Plains. Killeen’s unit had Third that day, so Higgins and his fellows arrived early to be in position at the gate house when the Inquisitor arrived at noon.

By two, tempers began to fray. The woman had never been late before; if she gave an arrival time she made it.

When the bell rang and Fourth Watch took their place, Higgins and half Killeen’s men bee-lined for the ‘Rest to try to find news on what was holding up the Herald. No one seemed to know anything – no one had even seen a raven fly in all day.

The bell rang for First Watch – midnight – and Higgins and Killeen trudged back to the encampment outside the gates, checking with everyone they met for any news. No one had any. The Inquisitor was half a day late, and with no word.

They’d just cleared the gate house when the clatter of hoofbeats forced them off the road and to attention. The four-man formation passing them was as close as four horses could be, with Varric and Cassandra riding shoulder-to-shoulder with the Inquisitor between them, and Solas close on their heels.

“She’s hurt,” Higgins whispered to Killeen. The Lieutenant nodded stiffly in response and directed him back to camp. “And keep your teeth together. I’ll bring word,” she said as an after thought as she trotted into the Keep behind the Inquisitor’s party.

But when Killeen came into camp an hour later, she had no news.

“Slid off her horse, tossed the reins to Milton,” Killeen told Higgins – and Crews and Ringwold, who were being unabashedly obvious in their eavesdropping. “She usually stops and gives the lad a chocolate or sweet when he comes for her horse, but she barely looked at him. Solas and Cassandra were all over her like white on rice. I helped Milton take the horses to the stable, and he asked me if ‘Evie was sick.’ Even the _stableboy_ knew there was something wrong.”

“Did she come back out?” Higgins asked.

Killeen shook her head. “Solas did. Commander did, eventually. Varric was waiting for him in his office. Cassandra went straight to bed after walking Josephine to her rooms; left the war room right before the Commander did. Never saw Leliana or the Inquisitor.”

“So she’s hurt and they’re hushing it up,” Higgins surmised.

Killeen shrugged, but nodded. “Go up there tomorrow, Nuggins? They won’t keep you out.”

Higgins agreed, but he never got the chance. The Inquisitor was seen all over Skyhold the next day, crossing the interior wall to the Commander’s office after their morning war room meeting and heading into the ‘Rest from there, presumably to speak with Sera and Bull.

The Commander’s temper, however, told Killeen it was all a show.

“Fuck me running,” she said as she dropped onto a stool in their camp wearily the next afternoon. Her unit had Fourth that night, but she’d been up and running for the Commander since before the bell rang First. “The first blighted bastard to step out of line tonight is getting thrown from the battlements, mark my words.”

“Commander still in a snit?” Higgins asked, more to reply than out of any doubt.

“Andraste’s soiled knickers, if that’s a _snit_ then I’m Empress Celene. The man is positively homicidal.”

“Grab a nap, Lieut. If he sends for you, I’ll cover.”

“Bless you, Nuggins,” she said, and collapsed in her tent without another word.

The Commander was looking for Killeen not thirty minutes after she got to sleep. Higgins sat in front of her tent flap and calmly sent away four runners in a row who were sent to fetch her.

To Higgins’ utter horror, the Commander himself came stalking through the camp within the hour.

“Lieutenant Killeen,” he demanded as he approached her tent.  
“Is off Watch, ser,” Higgins answered, standing at attention.

“As one of my officers, she is to expect her duties to extend past Guard rotations,” Cullen barked, closing the distance so he was nose-to-nose with Higgins. “Stand down, soldier.”

“No, ser.” Higgins replied calmly.

Cullen seemed to expand. Higgins set his jaw and tipped his chin, straightening his shoulders and meeting the Commander’s glare. “Lieutenant Killeen will be back on duty for Fourth tonight. Until that point, she will be asleep. Lieutenant Baudin is currently on duty, and any concerns you have may be directed at _him._ ”

“I did not ask for Baudin, I asked for _Killeen_ ,” the Commander told him, his voice ratcheting up another few decibels.

“If you perceive some deficiency in Lieutenant Baudin, that is _not_ the responsibility of Lieutenant Killeen,” Higgins answered him softly. “And you owe it to _Baudin_ to trust him as you do Killeen. Ser.”

Cullen took a shaking breath and leaned back as if to unleash his temper on Higgins.

“Scream at me all you want, ser,” Higgins said before the Commander got his first word out. “I will not have myself and the rest of her men compromised because our Lieutenant was denied sleep. I would formally request you scream at me elsewhere, so as not to disturb my Lieutenant’s nap.”

As if on cue, Killeen’s snore cut through the tension between the two men, and Cullen’s mouth twitched briefly into a smile. He exhaled and stepped away from Higgins.

“I need her like she needs you,” Cullen said so softly Higgins almost couldn’t make out the words.

“You’ll have her back, ser, just as soon as she gets some rest. We were all half-sick from worry yesterday, and Killeen didn’t get proper sleep last night, keeping the men calm. She’ll be in your office at Fourth Bell, just as soon as she knocks the edge off.”

Cullen nodded, and then turned on his heel and left without another word.

Higgins collapsed onto the stool in front of her tent and tried to slow the furious pace of his heart.

“You’re either the bravest or the stupidest fucker I have ever met,” Ringwold said in an awed voice from where he’d hidden a few feet away. Higgins coughed a laugh.

“Sometimes the best thing you can do for somebody is tell them when to stop,” Higgins told him. “My mother used to say that to Glennon’s mother, when our fathers were up in arms over something.”

“Hey.” Ringwold said, inching closer to Higgins. “I’ve never said… but I wanted to tell you how sorry I was. About Glennon. He was a good man, and you two were what brothers are supposed to be.”

Higgins smiled weakly. “That’s what our brothers said.”

Ringwold clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder before shuffling back off for another few hours of sleep before their Watch.

Their six hours of duty that night were brutal. The Inquisitor had brought back the news that a rift had opened not five miles to the south and west of Skyhold, and Cullen had everyone whipped into a fever pitch. Lieutenants were called to justify their assignments, patrols circuits were tightened, schedules were reexamined. Cullen was definitely calmer after his confrontation with Higgins, but he made it clear he had no intention of sleeping until every perceived weakness was shored up.

When they staggered back to the encampment at Fourth Bell – midnight – they were all still too keyed up to sleep. Ringwold stopped in the tavern when Eamon’s unit took over and asked Maryden to come out to play for Killeen’s company and help them get to sleep.

Higgins complained bitterly, but he was the only one who didn’t want to hear The Templar’s Lament, so Maryden led them through the verses and the soldiers joined her in the chorus. Higgins stormed off as they started, pulling up a stool in front of Killeen’s tent to talk to the Lieutenant before she went to bed. He figured she would need to know about his conversation with the Commander, since it hadn’t managed to come up during Watch. There was no escaping Maryden’s voice, but here at least he could pretend to ignore it.

“Is this it, then?” a soft voice asked from just over his shoulder. “This is the song that had you so worried?”

Higgins flinched visibly as he identified the speaker.

“How are you feeling, ser?” he asked softly, not turning around to try to locate her in the darkness.

“I’m… fine, why?”

Higgins scoffed. “Saw you come in. Say what you want, but Killer and I both know full well you got the shit knocked out of you. Was it the rift the Commander’s all worked up over?”

A soft sigh. “Yes. I almost didn’t make it. Solas patched me up, and I insisted on coming back into Skyhold instead of setting camp like a reasonable person. They say I about bled out on the ride. Head injuries do that.”

It chilled his blood, to hear her talk about it so matter-of-factly. “Why? Why insist on coming back in?”

He could almost hear her shrug. “Honestly?” A short laugh. “I desperately needed to feel safe. And the place I feel safest in the world is in Skyhold, where your Commander watches over me.”

Higgins shook his head, smiling. “Never thought to hear either of you admit to it. Have you told him?”

Another laugh. “Apparently I did. Head injury left it all a bit foggy.”

“So what are you doing out here, then?” He was rapidly becoming comfortable talking to the darkness.

“Listening. Aieyla gave me a pile of correspondence I needed to catch up on, but made sure I read yours first. When I saw Maryden leaving for the encampment tonight, I followed. Figured I could catch her on the way back in and ask her about your song-“

“ _Not_ my song,” Higgins hissed.

“Who are you talking to?” Killeen asked, striding up to him out of the darkness.

“Me,” the Inquisitor said, appearing briefly over his shoulder before sliding back into the darkness.

Killeen grabbed her chest and staggered back a step. “Maker’s burning whore, you scared me half to death.”

“ _Killeen_ ,” Higgins gasped. “I didn’t think I could still be offended, but that was _vile_.”

“Sorry! Sorry. You just… Maker, I need some sleep.”

“I was camped out here to tell you about my altercation with the Commander,” Higgins informed her. “But it can wait for tomorrow if you want. Just pencil me in some of your time, okay?”

Killeen nodded. “Don’t keep her out too late, she lost a lot of blood and needs her sleep.”

“How-“ the Inquisitor started, shocked.

“Saw the Commander’s armor,” Killeen answered, cutting her off. “Or, rather, saw where he’d cleaned it. Head wound?”

A soft laugh from the darkness beside the tent. “Yeah. And here we thought we were so clever.”

“Eh, no worries. Most of ‘em don’t know. Just me and Nuggins here.”

“Fair enough. Good night, Killeen.”

“’Night Knuckles,” Killeen answered, and stepped past Higgins into her tent.

“Walk with me?” Trevelyan asked.

A darkened form stepped away from the tent and reached out a hand. Higgins tucked it into his arm like he’d seen the Commander do and led her away from the encampment.

“I can tell it bothers you, but, really, it’s lovely,” Evelyn said. She was wearing the black armor she’d started taking with her into the field after Haven, which helped explain why she’d been so hard to see. It smelled of mink oil, and Higgins suspected that no amount of inspection would find a single drop of her blood still on it.

“You… like it?” Higgins asked, shocked.

“I can hear the different voices in it,” she said, a bit wistfully. “A templar at the beginning, and then… Killeen, maybe? I imagine her mourning Brown in those lines. And you, walking in circles and wondering if the bit of my air in your lungs was all that was left of me in the world.”

Higgins found himself suddenly near to tears. “Yes. Yes to all of that… we were talking around the fire in camp, waiting. First, for you to find us. Then, for you to wake up. Then, for you to recover. Waiting for the advisors to come up with a plan, waiting for them to stop fighting, waiting for us to start moving again. Mother Giselle told us to talk to each other, but nothing was enough. Killeen and I started coming up with lyrics, instead. And then Eamon chimed in. Maryden heard us and wrote everything down. She wrote the music, wrote the refrain. That was the bit I was sure would offend you. The rest of it was about us, but that is about you.”

“I see the distinction,” she agreed, lightly squeezing his arm. “But I’m not offended.”

They took a few paces in silence before she added, “…but I definitely wouldn’t let Cullen hear it.”

Higgins snorted a laugh. “If we’ve kept it quiet this long, hopefully he never will.”

“A noble endeavor,” she agreed, and they both laughed.

“But, honestly, what is so mean about my tongue?” she demanded, feigning offense, and Higgins laughed harder. “Seriously! I’m all peaches and honey, I’ve never dressed down a single one of you.”

“We’ve heard you pass judgment,” Higgins reminded her, and she had to concede the point. “Heard you say a couple nasty things to Threnn and Roderick, too, once upon a time.” Evelyn laughed helplessly. “Oh, and Aillis said you had some _choice_ words in Therinfall.”

“Alright! Alright! I get it!”

“And what was it Killeen said tonight?”

“Maker’s burning whore?” Evelyn supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, that. I’m a _soldier_ and I couldn’t say that without spending an hour in the Chantry apologizing. And it trips off your tongue like _nothing_ and you’re supposed to be Her _Herald_.”

“Fuck you, Higgins,” she laughed.

“My point!” he cried, laughing. “My point, again!”

“Who goes there?” a voice challenged them as they neared the gate, their conversation having grown too loud.

“Stand down, Aillis!” Higgins called, recognizing the speaker.

“Higgins? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

They approached the gate from the side, allowing the darkness to hide the Inquisitor. Aillis stepped away from the rest of the templars on duty at the gatehouse and strode into the night to positively identify Higgins and his companion.

“Shit,” she said as she recognized the Inquisitor. “What are you-“

“Shhhhh,” Evelyn said, glancing at the rest of the Guard. “You’ll panic them. I know Cullen’s got everybody on edge.”

“Right,” Aillis said, smartly, snapping up straight and saluting. “As you were,” she added, loudly enough for the other templars at the gate.

“Knuckles came out to hear Maryden sing The Templar’s Lament and _not_ kill us for it.”

“Us?” Aillis scoffed. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it.”

“No. That’s too bad. I rather like it,” Evelyn teased her.

“You… what? Really?”

“That’s more or less what I said,” Higgins told her.

“Nuggins was just telling me all the times my tongue was mean, since that was the bit I took exception to.”

Aillis snorted. “ _That_ was the bit that held you up? And not being referred to the angel of _la petit mort_?”

Evelyn burst out laughing. “I didn’t think she meant it that way! Oh, you’re just as sick and twisted as I am, I love it.”

“Maryden did say she didn’t mean it that way,” Higgins said, a bit smugly, “and said the Wicked Grace cards would help distance people from that line of thought.”

“Again, just don’t let the Commander hear it,” Evelyn replied. “Also? I snuck right past all of you when Maryden went through. You need to have a rogue on duty, or train someone to see people practiced in stealth.”

“Fuck,” Aillis said succinctly. “Commander’s going to have kittens.”

“Well, don’t tell him _now_ , stupid,” Evelyn teased. “Wait until he’s a bit more cheerful.”

“You wanna cheer him up for us, Knuckles?” Aillis teased back, and Evelyn blushed so deeply they could see it in the low light.

“You know? I might just try,” she said, tipping her head up. “And I’ll go back to the keep now, so Higgins can catch up on sleep. Will your fellows mind if I come through openly, or should I sneak back through?”

“For the love of… just walk through,” Aillis said, with a jerk of her head indicating the Inquisitor should walk with her.

Evelyn stopped long enough to sling her arms around Higgins’ neck for a quick hug. “Thank you,” she breathed.

“For what?”

“Leaving me a note addressed to _Evelyn_ ,” she replied, and then she and Aillis were approaching the Gate and the templars snapped to attention. She was teasing them about letting her sneak out earlier as Higgins went back into the encampment and passed out of earshot.

Maryden was singing another round of The Templar’s Lament, and for the first time Higgins didn’t hate it.


	32. View of the Battlements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is wicked short, so I'll make up for it by posting it as an extra. Another chapter coming tomorrow! <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlaps with Of Fear and Lyrium: Chapter 10 (Rogues)

They had the next day off, and Higgins did his best to sleep through it. He woke up just in time to make it to his next Watch and spent most of it on the ramparts, enjoying the slow rise of the sun over the mountains.

“Copper for your thoughts,” Killeen said as the kitchen opening up announced their shift would be ending soon.

“Glennon would have liked it here,” he answered her softly. “He loved the view from our campsite back in Haven. I was more a fan of the sunlight warming the tent, but he would stand there and look out over the lake whenever he had the chance.”

“Did you ever write his family?” She gently pressed an issue they had both been skirting.

“I did. Cleaned up the necklace his mother gave him and sent it back to her with an apology. Told her the dragon got him, that he went in an instant and didn’t suffer. It was mostly true. Wrote my family, as well. Told them I was alive and well and definitely _not_ coming home. That the Breach was real, that the Inquisitor – just the Herald, when I wrote it – was real, and she was the only person in the world who could fix things. I told them that she walks among us, knows our names, listens to our fears. Ma wrote me back angry – not that I wasn’t coming home, she knew better, but that I’d convinced two of our brothers and Glen’s little sister to come join us.”

Killeen snorted a laugh. Higgins smiled softly. “They’re not coming, of course. Having another Glennon in the army would be too hard on me… and I would be ruined if there was another Higgins around and we had to start using my first name.”

That earned him the signature Killeen chuckle, and he grinned at her.

“Come on, let’s meet up at the Gate and turn this mess over to Eamon,” she said, drawing him off the battlements.

“You’re missing all the good stuff,” Aillis told Higgins as Killeen gave report to Eamon and handed off responsibility. “Knuckles and Varric apparently got in a fight in the ‘Rest yesterday. Something about the Inquisitor’s nickname and Varric trying to tell it to Commander Cullen. Cabot actually called Jenson in to make sure there was no damage to the bar, but I hear that was partially because Varric was standing on it.”

Higgins shook his head. “Nuts. The lot of ‘em.”

“You going to stick around today?” Aillis asked as Killeen finished the handoff and dismissed her company.

Higgins shook his head. “Still catching up on sleep, and I need to get some more time in on the training field before the Commander whips my ass.”

“Fair enough,” she replied, and waved goodbye. Higgins trotted to the kitchen line and got breakfast before making the long walk out to his tent and doing his best to sleep the day away.

“Get out here!” Killeen’s disembodied head was shouting at him from the flap of his tent some time later.

“Wha- What?” Higgins asked, sitting up.

“Right now. Out here. Pants optional. HURRY.”

Higgins – lacking in armor but otherwise dressed – stumbled out of his tent.

“Look!” Killeen pointed at the battlements.

There was somebody standing there, but from this distance it could be anyone.

“You see?”

Higgins shrugged. “Somebody standing on the wall?”

Killeen slapped her forehead. “Blind, the lot of you. It’s the Commander.”

Higgins shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“And the Inquisitor.”

Higgins squinted up at the wall again. The profile was definitely only one person-

“Holy shit,” he breathed as they came up for air and he could see that it was decidedly _two_ people, standing _very very close_.

“Right in view of the whole bleedin’ army,” Killeen said happily. “Couldn’t have picked a better spot.”

“She did tell Aillis she would try to cheer him up for us.”

Killeen threw her head back and laughed. “We’ve got Second tomorrow! Bless her, it’ll be the easiest shift on record.”

Higgins grunted. “Not likely. She’s leaving in the morning. All his good will is going to be wasted on Third Watch today. Who’s got that? Jenson?”

Killeen grimaced. “Lucky twat. That should have been _your_ command, if you weren’t such a lazy bastard.”

“Oh, right, like you’d survive without me picking up your slack.”

Killeen turned as if to comment, but changed her mind at the last moment, shaking her head. “You’re actually… probably right. You as my second _has_ probably saved my life since we lost …Haven.”

She meant _since we lost Brown_ but Higgins didn’t need to hear the words to recognize the sentiment. “I don’t want to be him,” Higgins said softly. “I don’t want his command, can’t fill his shoes, don’t _want to try_. I’ve got your back, Killer. This is my place.”

The confession earned him a punch to the shoulder. “Either go back to bed or go get dressed, ya bum,” she said, jerking her thumb towards his tent.

“I thought we were watching the Commander and the Inquisitor make out like a couple of teenagers,” Higgins retorted, gesturing at the once-again-single-profile on the battlements.

“At this rate they’ll be up there all day,” Killeen sighed happily. “I’ll time it for you.”

With an roll of his eyes, Higgins went back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (putting in a reference to the other brothers of Higgins & Glennon just to mess with zombolouge)


	33. Dragon Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the winner go the spoils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Overlaps with Of Fear & Lyrium: Chapter 11 (Truths)  
> Also: this might be my favorite thing I've ever written.

Higgins felt well-rested the next morning, for the first time since Haven was lost. Training with a shield was giving him a physical way to remember and honor Glennon, and he found himself actively looking forward to his mornings in the practice ring. The Inquisitor rode out with her team right as Killeen was taking report from Lieutenant Baudin, a mousy Orlesian with an elaborate mustache and an easy laugh.

The Commander seemed to have held onto his good cheer, going so far as to come out onto the bailey wall to watch the Inquisitor leave with Dorian, Varric, and the Iron Bull. He went into the keep as they passed through the gate, a thoughtful frown on his face.

He returned an hour later a walking stormcloud, for no apparent reason whatsoever. He didn’t vent his fury to anyone during Higgins’ Watch, but rather simmered in a controlled rage all day until the council meeting that evening.

“Maker’s tits, but I’m glad to see the back of him,” Killeen breathed as their watch neared an end and Cullen disappeared into the war room.

“There is so much wrong with that statement, I don’t know where to start,” Higgins replied.

“Fuck you, Nuggins. You know what I mean.”

“So much for good cheer,” Higgins agreed.

No one could guess at what has spoiled the Commander’s good mood – and they were further confused when he returned from the war room that night in _better_ cheer than before. Without the Inquisitor in the war room, the advisors tended to leave it in varying degrees of frustration ranging to full fury.

When word spread that the Herald was on her way home, it came with a caveat.

“Crazy bitch killed the dragon in the Hinterlands,” Killeen reported to her company at their start-of-guard meeting, as they stood around the gate one bright morning. “Expect a ridiculous party when she returns, set for three nights hence. You lucky stiffs are assigned to Fourth that day, so you will _not_ be enjoying the feast. However, once you’re free at midnight you’re welcome to make as big of asses of yourself as you can stomach the consequences for.”

“The dragon?” a ‘Marcher by the name of Engle repeated. “She killed the high dragon that was roosting east of Redcliffe?”

“Report called it the _Ferelden Frostback,_ as if the damned things need names,” Killeen confirmed, referring to the missive that was circulated amongst the Lieutenants. “The Herald appears to be unscathed, and will be in Skyhold for three days before leaving again for Crestwood with… the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“Ten copper, Gibby!” Ringwold hooted. “I _told you_ that was Hawke!” Gibbs tossed him the coin with good grace.

“So it really was Lady Hawke hiding on the battlements?” Higgins asked.

Killeen nodded. “Rumors confirmed. That also explains the attempt made on Varric’s life by Seeker Cassandra.”

There were some shuffling steps and cleared throats at that revelation. No one was willing to risk the Seeker’s ire.

“Any questions or comments?” Killeen asked. She waited for several seconds of silence. “Very well, you have your assignments, get moving.”

“Explains why the Commander was so pissed when she left,” Higgins said as an aside to Killeen a few hours later, when he ran across her in the courtyard. “Remember how they fought that first night in Skyhold about her risking herself unduly? He could not possibly have liked her going dragon hunting.”

“You think he didn’t find out until after she left?” Killeen wondered.

Higgins nodded. “Maybe she left him a note? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Solid theory, Nuggins,” Killeen said, slapping him on the shoulder as the Commander appeared out of nowhere and surged past them on some errand.

Higgins exhaled noisily, his heart racing in his chest. “I am not built for gossip, Killer.”

She laughed and threw an arm across his shoulders. “That’s why we love ya, Nuggins.”

 

*

 

The night of the Herald’s victorious return, Higgins was assigned main hall duty. Killeen – and Cullen – trusted him not to get caught up in the party and neglect his duty. “And you’ll have the best luck at breaking up any fights the Chargers might start,” Killeen said cheerfully.

“You want me dead, don’t you?” Higgins grumped.

Surprisingly, Higgins didn’t have a single fight to interrupt. Bull was jubilant from the dragon battle, and Varric told and re-told the story enough times to put the qunari and his mercenary band into impossibly high spirits. The Inquisitor spent easily half the night on the Iron Bull’s shoulders, being passed a drink every time Bull noticed her cup was empty.

Higgins left, briefly, at change-of-Watch, and then returned immediately to the main hall.

“You off duty, Nuggins?” Krem asked when Higgins returned to the hall.

“I am!” Higgins replied. Grim handed him a beer, and Higgins systematically touched tankards with each of the Bull’s Chargers before downing the pint in one long draw.

“Ah, a repeat of the night in Haven, I hope?” Krem asked with a smirk, handing Higgins another beer.

“I’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” Higgins replied.

“Nuggins!” the Inquisitor called from Bull’s shoulder. She tugged on one of the qunari’s horns to encourage him to move in the soldier’s direction. “I thought you weren’t allowed to join in!”

“He’s off watch, Inquisitor,” Krem answered for him. “Man’s got his work cut out for him, if he wants to catch you up.”

“Ugh, don’t,” Trevelyan responded, making a face. “I should have stopped four pints back.”

“Are you drinking _beer_?” Killeen asked, coming up behind Higgins and stealing his tankard. Krem handed him another before he managed to verbalized his protest.

Trevelyan rolled her eyes. “Bad idea, right? But I’m making sure not to drink the Fereldan shit going around. Varric’s keeping me liberally lubricated with a lovely libation from the Free Marches.”

“I dare you to say that again,” Higgins laughed.

“Liberally lubricant- shit!” the Inquisitor replied, to be met with a cheer from the Chargers.

She slid down the qunari’s back – a move Higgins had seen her perform several times already that night – and slung her arms around Higgins’ and Killeen’s shoulders. “You guys,” she said, slurring her words a bit, “are the best. The literal _best_. Did you see me slide off Bull there? Pretty good, right?” She let go suddenly and spun around. “Ringwold!” she called, waving him over. “Get over here, there’s _drinking to do_.”

Higgins looked at his tankard, drained it, and then refused Krem’s immediately proferred refill. “She’s going to be puking within the hour at this rate,” he told the Charger Lieutenant. “I’ll volunteer to haul her ass up the stairs.”

“You are a _good man_ , Nuggins,” Trevelyan said, throwing her arms around his neck.

“This is something I want explained,” Dorian interjected, sauntering up. “Why on Thedas do you keep calling this poor man _Nuggins_?”

“Oh no,” Higgins breathed, as Evelyn threw an arm around Dorian, drawing him next to her, and launched into song.

_“Ooooooh The best of us ran when the dreadnaught was sighted! Nuggins, Nuggins! For he heard the call. Tripped nine Qunari, and that’s why he’s knighted! Nuggins, Nuggins! As brave as he’s small!”_

“You have to stop her,” Higgins pleaded with Dorian over the Inquisitor’s head. “Seriously, she can’t handle this.”

“Shit, sorry, Bull,” she said, frowning as she thought about the verse she’d just belted out.

“No worries, Boss,” the huge qunari answered easily.

 _“Ooooooh_ ….” she launched into the second verse, several of the Chargers chiming in. _“A shore full of pirates, the worst set to happen. Nuggins, Nuggins! His head pure and true. Tripped him an admiral, now he’s our captain! Nuggins, Nuggins! For me and you!_ ”

“Isabela would hate that,” Varric said, from where he was perched on the edge of one of the long banquet tables.

 _“Ooooooh…._ ” Evelyn continued, ignoring Varric’s comment. _“The blight was upon us, and we found no pardon. Nuggins, Nuggins! Now he’ll make a stand! Tripped up the darkspawn, and now he’s a Warden! Nuggins, Nuggins! For all in the land!”_

“You wanna be a Warden, boy?” Blackwall asked, stumbling into the fray. Sera was draped companionably over his shoulder. “It’ll take a bit more than tripping, but you’ve got it in you. I’d put you forward to Join.”

 _“Ooooooh…”_ Evelyn continued, now with half the main hall joining her. Higgins was still trapped at her side in the middle of it, Killeen laughing hysterically from a few feet away at the look of utter horror on his face. _“Paraded through Kirkwall as hero and winner! Nuggins, Nuggins! Stubborn and vicious! Tripped up a viscount, now he’s for dinner!”_

Sera’s voice suddenly overtook all the rest, booming across the main hall: “HIGGINS! HIGGINS! OF COURSE HE’S DELICIOUS!”

Trevelyan collapsed into a helpless fit of giggles, the sound utterly at odds with her normal voice. She went limp in their arms, dangling from Dorian and Higgins’ shoulders bonelessly as Dorian laughed an apology to Higgins. Varric came sauntering over, laughing at the Inquisitor’s antics, while Bull joined Higgins and Dorian in trying to keep Evelyn off the floor.

“This gets better every time I hear it,” Varric said. “We’ve got to get you liquored up more often, Knuckles.”

Higgins saw it coming, being the most sober man there, and he quickly shifted his stance so he was slightly behind the Inquisitor and his legs angled out of the line of fire. He dropped an arm to her waist and let her double over and expel several pints of good ‘Marcher beer onto the floor.

“Oh, son of a…” Dorian complained, releasing his hold on the vomiting Inquisitor and dancing out of the way. “These are _Antivan leather_ , you soft-stomached strumpet.”

“She can’t hear you yet,” Higgins laughed, as Evelyn took a gasping breath and then heaved another pint or two onto the floor.

Varric and Bull were also dancing out of the way, but far too late. The three men stood looking at their newly ruined boots just long enough for Evelyn to empty her stomach and then spit to clear her mouth. As Higgins backed her away from the substantial puddle on the floor, Varric and Bull burst into laughter, the dwarf leaning weakly against the qunari – his head barely clearing the bigger man’s thigh – as the Chargers raised a hearty cheer in the Inquisitor’s name.

“Fuck you, you fucked up fucking fucks,” Evelyn groaned as Higgins helped her upright and Killeen handed her a napkin and a glass of water.

“Right,” Higgins said, and pulled her arm over his shoulder. “Say goodnight to your friends, Knuckles.”

“’Night, Fuckers,” Evelyn said, lifting her hand in a rude gesture and solemnly rotating to aim it at everyone in the room.

Another cheer from the Chargers – as Bull and Varric continued laughing, near hysterics – and a litany of completely out-of-character curses from Dorian followed them out of the hall.

“How do you want to get to the top of the stairs?” Higgins asked. “Me pitching you over my shoulder will not be pleasant for either of us.”

“I’ll help,” Killeen said, coming up behind him. “I’ve got Ringwold and a couple rolls of bandages.”

“Nice,” Higgins said, taking a roll of cloth from her and unwinding it with a practiced flick of his wrist. He and Killeen quickly twirled the thick cotton into a loose rope and wrapped it around Trevelyan’s ribs. They stood the Herald and Higgins back-to-back and Higgins grabbed the ends of the bandages, drawing them forward to remove all the slack. Holding them tight over his shoulders, he pulled on the ends of the makeshift sling so the Inquisitor was pulled gently off the ground. Higgins leaned forward slightly, so her weight was on his back rather than on her ribs, and started the long climb up the tower.

“Oooooh, this is _brilliant_ ,” Trevelyan breathed. “Cullen just carried me up in his arms, but this makes _far_ more sense.”

“Oh, I need a spot,” Higgins laughed, standing up to put Evelyn down on a landing. “Wasn’t expecting _that_ little confession.”

Ringwold hurried up and took the sling – and the Inquisitor – from Higgins and made it up another flight before Killeen took a turn.

“No,” Evelyn complained. “Killeen, no, _you_ can’t carry me up.”

“Why the fuck not?” the Lieutenant demanded, easily lifting the Herald onto her back and starting up the stairs.

“Because you won’t let me live it down, you _bitch_ ,” the Inquisitor replied. Killeen’s surprised laugh drove them both into the wall.

“How about I promise to never mention it again, ser?” Killeen answered after Higgins and Ringwold helped her steady herself.

“Bullshit,” Trevelyan replied. “Someday you’ll work it into the conversation and I would _hate_ to have to hurt you. I really would.”

Killeen managed to get to the next landing before setting Evelyn down and collapsing into helpless laughter.

“I can walk the rest, I think,” the Herald said, eyeing the last flight.

Higgins ducked under her arm, and Ringwold mimicked the maneuver on her opposite side. “Last flight, we got this,” Higgins agreed.

The two soldiers stood up straight and lifted Trevelyan’s feet off the stairs, carrying her easily the rest of the way up. Their Herald didn’t appear to notice she wasn’t making contact, and made stepping motions through the air with a befuddled frown.

“Maker’s masturbating mistress,” she whispered, awestruck, causing Killeen to laugh hard enough she nearly tumbled down the stairs. “I don’t have legs. Where’s my fucking legs? What the _fuck_ was I drinking?”

Higgins and Ringwold burst through the door into the Inquisitor’s quarters, propelling her up the last few steps and then collapsing into heaps on the floor, laughing helplessly.

“Fucking Dorian cursed me!” Trevelyan concluded. “I puked on his fucking shoes, so he _stole my legs_. I’m legless! I’ll kill him if I ever get out of this tower!”

She crawled across the floor and threw herself onto the hysterical Higgins. “Nuggins. Nug-buddy. You gotta promise. Get me back downstairs so I can _kill Dorian_ and get my _legs back_. Fucking Tevinter _prick_.”

“Stop,” Killeen gasped. “For the love of the Maker, stop. You’re killing us.”

“NO!” Evelyn cried, aghast, rolling away. “Fuck, it’s contagious. Get away! Save your legs!”

Trevelyan crawled most of the way to her bathroom on her elbows, dragging her bottom half across the floor, seemingly unaware that her ‘missing’ legs were easily bending at the ankle so her toes could get traction on the floor and propel her across the room. She made it to the rug by her bed before suddenly passing out.

“Beat it,” Killeen told her two soldiers once they were able to pick themselves off the floor. “I’ll get her cleaned up and put to bed. I’ll crash up here, make sure she wakes up tomorrow. Commander’s taken tomorrow off, so I shouldn’t be missed.”

“Yes, ser,” Ringwold said and made for the door.

“Need any help?” Higgins asked. Ringwold blushed crimson.

“Get Ringwold out of here before he catches on fire,” Killeen said with a dismissive gesture.

Higgins nodded and led Ringwold through the press of bodies still celebrating in the main hall and back to the encampment.

 

*

 

Evelyn woke at First Bell, rolled out of bed and promptly threw up in the bucket Killeen managed to get under her head just in time.

“Who…?” Trevelyan asked, blearily rubbing her eyes.

“Killeen,” she answered. “What do you remember?”

“Hrngh,” Trevelyan replied. “Drinking. Drinking a _lot_. And… Maker’s breath, did I puke on Dorian?”

Killeen laughed softly. “Dorian’s _shoes_ , more properly. And Bull’s. And Varric’s. Higgins managed to dodge.”

 _“Nuggins_ ,” Evelyn hissed. “That fucking song is my downfall, I swear. Sera changed the lyrics again, didn’t she?”

“Dorian asked why Nuggins’ nickname is what it is. You obliged him with a song. Sera obliged him with the full experience.”

“Bath,” the Inquisitor gritted, easing out of bed. “Water. Brush teeth. And then sleep until Second Bell. I’ve got…” she trailed off, canting an eyebrow at Killeen. Then, with a shrug, “Fuck it. I’ve got a date with Cullen. Chess in the garden. I’m going to get my ass kicked.”

Killeen laughed again, mindful of the noise. “Likely,” she agreed.

“Would it bother you to help me?” Trevelyan asked softly. “I could send for Aieyla…”

“I would not inflict her displeasure on you this morning,” Killeen answered just as softly. “I can get you into the tub… Evelyn.”

The Inquisitor beamed at her as Killeen helped her stand. “Can I return the favor? Call you by your first name?”

Killeen shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Evelyn’s face fell. Killeen fought with herself for a minute, before the guilt of hurting the Inquisitor’s feelings overcame her desire for secrecy. “It’s Evelyn. My first name. Same as yours. Didn’t intend to ever tell you.”

Trevelyan brightened up considerably. “Well, that makes perfect sense. I’ll pretend I don’t know, Killeen.”

“Thank you, Evelyn,” the Lieutenant replied with a smile. Evelyn showed her how the pipes worked to draw water into the room from the water reservoir on the side of the tower, and dropped the heating rune in as she stripped from her plaidweave pajamas.

“Maker’s ass, Evelyn, you’re scarred six ways to Sunday,” Killeen remarked when as she helped the Inquisitor slide into the bubbling water.

“Yep,” Evelyn replied, with a sigh. “That happens.”

“I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She lifted her hand out of the water to briefly catch Killeen’s wrist and keep her from withdrawing. “No, it’s fine. I just… never expect anyone to be accepting of my more colorful history. I’m a thief, Killeen. _Those who steal from their brothers and sisters do harm to their livelihood and peace of mind. Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart_.” She quoted the Chant and then sighed. “You all insist I’m Her Herald, but I’m a _thief_. She was pretty explicit about how She – and the Maker – feel about that.”

“Huh,” Killeen answered, pulling up a stool to sit beside her while Evelyn soaked the beer out of her pores. “I never really thought about it that way. All the stories I’ve heard, you were stealing from people who maybe deserved to be stolen from.”

“The rich, you mean?” Evelyn said with a weak laugh. “I’m not quite to Sera’s level of vigilante-ism with that. I didn’t steal from the rich to feed the poor. I stole from the rich to be spiteful. I stole from the rich because if they hated me, they wouldn’t try to make me marry any of their spoiled shitty sons.”

“Not one of them ever caught your eye?” Killeen said with a smile. “Surely there was _one_ nobleman in the city you didn’t despise.”

“My brother, Aaric, was the only nobleman I didn’t hate,” Evelyn conceded. “But… ew. No, the only person who ever _caught my eye_ was a thief.”

“Cadash?” Killeen asked.

Evelyn grunted, sinking deeper into the tub.

“You blushed,” Killeen pressed. “In the ‘Rest, when we were playing Wicked Grace. You said you’d been _training under Cadash_ and it was there for just a second. I think only me and Sera caught it.”

Evelyn went beet red at the memory. “Yeah, okay. If you want to phrase it like Sera would, I trained under Cadash. I trained  _over_ him, too. I did my own fair share of _training him_ as well. If anything could piss my father off more than stealing from his associates, it was giving my maidenhood up to a Carta dwarf.”

“I didn’t think of it like that,” Killeen admitted. “It’s different for nobility, I suppose.”

Evelyn nodded. “Did your parents care that you had slept with Brown? Did they know?”

Killeen blinked at the question. “I forgot you knew. But… no. I didn’t tell them, not directly, but I suppose they knew. And for what it was worth, my mother said they were happy for me. Having to write and tell them he was …dead… was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I had to write to the Carta about Cadash, and to my father about Aaric,” Evelyn said, softly commiserating with her. “Worst letters ever. Did you write to Brown’s family at all?”

Killeen hunched her shoulders and curled her body a bit on the stool.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you-“

“I tried,” Killeen cut off her apology. “But he never actually told me where he was from. I have the letter written. Everything he told me about his family, everything I think they might want to know. But I don’t have anywhere to send it. I think… I think the Commander and the Nightingale know. I think they looked him up. But that information never made it to me.”

“I could get it from Leliana, if that is the case,” Evelyn said gently. “But I’ll have to tell her who wants to know and why. Information is paid for with other information in Leliana’s world.”

“I would be surprised if she didn’t know,” Killeen replied bitterly.

“I never told her, and I highly doubt either Cullen or Higgins did.”

Killeen conceded the point. “I don’t care if she knows. I don’t care if _everyone_ knows at this point. I almost wish we hadn’t been so secretive about it, now. You know what they say about hindsight.”

“I do,” Evelyn agreed, letting out a very whiny groan as she stood out of the tub. “Right now I could teach a master class on hindsight. Maker, my head.”

Killeen grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed it lightly to the Inquisitor. Evelyn managed to keep most of it out of the water, and Killeen caught her when she stumbled a bit getting out of the tub.

“You’re a hot mess,” Killeen said, laughing.

“I’m going back to bed, is what I am,” Evelyn told her, pulling back on her plaidweave pajamas. “Did you get me dressed last night?”

“I did. And you’re welcome. Higgins probably would have stayed to help if I hadn’t dismissed him.”

Evelyn paused as she buttoned her shirt. “Really? I figured he’d put as much distance between himself and my half-naked ass as possible.”

“Wrong,” Killeen chided with a smile. “He was going to carry you up here single-handedly, but Ringwold and I stepped in to help. When you passed out on the rug, Ringwold beat a hasty retreat. I had to send Higgins with him. Poor Nuggins worships you, sorry to say. We all do, but I suspect he’s the most devout believer of us all.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes and finished buttoning her pajamas before drying her hair as vigorously as her hangover would allow.

“He doesn’t treat me that way,” she said as she threw Killeen the towel and worked her way back under her covers.

“He does,” Killeen disagreed, hanging the towel on a hook near the tub and leaning down to fish the heating rune out of the water. “It’s all fucked up, but to hear him explain it, it almost makes sense. Basically, he owes you his life – as does everyone else, as far as he’s concerned. Which is a debt he will likely never repay, at least not directly. So when you ask him to treat you like just some nobody, like a friend, he sees that as his way of paying you back. Instead of some Tevinter dragon that demands blood sacrifice, Higgins’ god just wants quiet conversation and an occasional game of cards.”

Evelyn dragged the coverlet over her head. “I wish you hadn’t told me that.”

“What? Why? You knew. You had to know. Even the Commander sees you as a religious icon, we _all do_. Maker’s breath, Evelyn, _you stepped out of the Fade_. The realm of the Maker. Nobody has done that since Tevinter started the Blights. You’re a big deal.”

The Inquisitor pulled the blanket down enough to peek out at Killeen. “It wasn’t Andraste in the Fade behind me, Killeen, it _couldn’t be_.”

Killeen shrugged. “Who cares? It was _you_ in the Fade.”

Evelyn made a sound that was suspiciously like a growl. “I’m just a girl from Ostwick. I’m just some asshole who got lucky.”

Killeen put a foot on the chest at the base of Evelyn’s bed and propped her arm on her knee. “And Andraste was just a slave who could sing. She was a wife and a mother. She didn’t fight dragons or close holes in the sky or _fall out of the Fade_. You’ve surivived… Maker, you know what you’ve lived through. Andraste couldn’t survive a couple of logs and a torch. What are the chances of anybody managing to burn _you_ alive? About zero?”

Evelyn blinked. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”

“You don’t have to agree with me,” Killeen said, straightening. “I’m just telling you what _everybody who follows you_ thinks. You’ve already done more than Andraste, in our eyes. You’re not her second coming… you’re far more badass.”

“I feel like I’m going to burn as a heretic,” Evelyn admitted, sitting up. “When my number is finally up, when I stand at the Maker’s side, he will doom me to the Void for blasphemy.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” Killeen said and made her way to the door. “Higgins is convinced I damned myself the other night when I said-“

“Maker’s burning whore,” Evelyn supplied, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t think Andraste would appreciate that description.”

Killeen shrugged. “If you’re doomed, it is us who sent you there. You’ll be in good company. We’ll set up a new Skyhold in the Void.”

Evelyn’s laughter followed Killeen down the stairs.


	34. TeamWork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three little snippets put together.  
> Dorian needs someone to brag to.  
> Killeen gets a favor.  
> And Cullen's secret comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going on hiatus starting on the 21st. I will be home the 1st of June.  
> Because of the way everything is timing out, I've got three chapters left before Adamant.  
> My plan is to post those three and then hold off on Adamant until I get back.  
> Most trips I can post from drafts while I'm gone, but since I'll be off shore I sincerely doubt I will have WiFi. If I do, I have the drafts queued up and I will post while we're at sea.

They had First Watch the next morning, and Higgins found himself assigned to the battlements again. It would have brought complaints of favoritism if it wasn’t the coldest patrol. Killeen knew Higgins loved to watch the sun rise over the mountains, and so he was given the battlement patrol every time it was their turn to serve First.

He was surprised when, some hours before dawn, Dorian strode up the stairs to fall into pace beside him.

“A bit early for you to be up, isn’t it, Sparkler?” Higgins said by way of greeting.

“Very early, honestly, but I’m leaving at this time tomorrow so I might as well get my schedule turned around. Also, I felt the need to be congratulated on my victory, and there’s only so many times a man can say it to himself before he needs to find an audience.”

Higgins laughed. “Alright, what have you accomplished?”

“I was seeking Killeen, honestly. Would you rather serve as my adoring public?”

“We can go _find_ Killeen, and then she and I can both prop up your ego, if that’s what you require.”

“And once again the reason for Evelyn’s adoration of you is readily visible.”

Killeen was in Cullen’s office, as the Commander was suffering from a raging case of insomnia. Cullen motioned for them both to come in when Higgins tapped lightly on the door as he cracked it open.

“Good morning, Commander,” Dorian said as he swept into the room. “I trust you slept well?”

“I trust you haven’t been to bed yet?” Cullen replied.

“Of course not,” Dorian said easily, leaning back against the wall. “I will lapse unconscious immediately after dinner tonight and be moderately well-rested when we pack up and leave at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning.”

“Where you off to?” Killeen asked.

“A brief stop in Redcliffe on the way to Crestwood,” Dorian answered easily. “The Inquisitor is helping me run a quick errand before we go and meet up with sirrah Hawke.”

“I need to continue my round,” Higgins said, gesturing to the door. Cullen wearily waved his dismissal.

“Get an hour,” Killeen could be heard to say as Higgins retreated to the battlements.

“Just one,” Dorian agreed.

“I will- yes, fine. Go, then.” Cullen said, acquiescing.

Killeen and Dorian were on the ramparts with Higgins within seconds.

“Chess,” Dorian said with a grin. “I was witness to the single most brilliant game of chess imaginable. And I can imagine quite a lot.”

“The Herald said she had a date with the Commander yesterday,” Killeen offered. “Is that what you’re referring to?”

Dorian looked like he was preening himself. “It is. It took weeks of consistent effort, but I think I might finally have those two hopeless recluses matched up in a more or less permanent fashion.”

“I don’t want to hear this,” Higgins said, walking away.

Killeen cut off Dorian’s immediate protest. “Higgins prefers the Inquisitor and the Commander have some privacy. He doesn’t like for them to be a source of gossip. I can’t really fault him for it, either.”

Dorian sniffed, outraged. “Gossip? This is not gossip, this is _triumph_.”

“Be that as it may, Higgins won’t hear it.” Killeen tucked an arm around the mage’s waist. “I, on the other hand, will devour any and all tidbits you would care to drop me.”

“Darling girl, this is precisely why I came looking for you,” Dorian simpered as they made their way slowly around Skyhold.

 

*

 

“Kill,” a soft voice woke her out of a deep sleep in the small hours before dawn.

“Hrm?” she asked, blearily lifting her head from the pillow. She had Second today, she didn’t need to be awake before breakfast. A moment of careful listening told her there were no sounds of conflict or concern in the camp – the dubious quiet a thousand or so soldiers can manage was comforting in its normalcy.

“Its me… Evelyn… I’m coming in.”

The Inquisitor slipped into her tent, dressed in the swirling browns and greys she used to hide her identity while travelling. Killeen sat up and swung her legs over the side of the cot and waved for the newcomer to sit beside her.

“How fucking early is it?”

“I leave at first light, and I’m still here, so….”

Killeen grunted. “Fair enough.”

“I talked to Leliana yesterday.”

Killeen was suddenly and utterly _awake_. “She know about Daniel’s next of kin?”

She could just make out Trevelyan nodding in the darkness, and her heart leapt into her throat.

“Leliana put together a report for Cullen. I… acquired a copy for you. You really don’t want to know what I had to tell Leliana to get it.” Evelyn shuddered delicately. She produced a scroll with a flourish. “As requested, a brief biography of one Daniel Brown.”

“Thank you,” Killeen breathed.

“I have to ask for something in return,” Trevelyan said, the hesitation in the her voice plain.

“Anything,” Killeen promised easily.

“Read it now,” the Inquisitor replied. “I can’t leave without knowing your reaction to what it says.”

Killeen felt her heart rate quicken, and it seemed time slowed down. She loosened the fasteners on either side of the scroll and flipped up the end, letting it unroll as she read it.

“Gwaren,” she breathed. His family – the Browns of Gwaren – should be easy to find. Her letter could be delivered. She almost stopped there, but the sizeable block of text beneath the description of his family and background drew her curiousity. What else was there to say?

“He was… betrothed?” Killeen asked, half to herself. “Fleeing that is what brought him to Haven?”

“Apparently,” Evelyn answered softly. “Leliana didn’t have much more to say besides what’s there.”

Killeen nodded. “Thank you for this.”

“That’s it?” The Herald’s eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned to you he had a _fiancée_ somewhere in the world, did he?”

Killeen shrugged. “He obviously wasn’t interested in her. He wouldn’t have run for Haven and covered his tracks so well if he’d any intention of marrying the girl. Maybe he didn’t think through all the consequences, and maybe things could have gotten sticky if they’d ever figured out where he was…” Killeen shrugged again. “But they didn’t. And playing _what if_ won’t bring him back. I loved him – _Maker_ , did I love that man – and what we had was perfect, while it lasted. That’s all that matters.”

Trevelyan threw her arms around Killeen’s shoulders. “You’re something else, Killer,” she told the Lieutenant fondly.

“Thanks, Knuckles,” Killeen said, returning the hug. “Now get your happy ass on the road and let me get some sleep.”

Evelyn laughed and quickly departed. Something made her wait, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she took a few steps and hovered at the side of the tent and listened.

A few minutes later, her shoulders drooping, Evelyn made her way out of the encampment, the soft sounds of Killeen’s weeping fading behind her.

 

*

 

The officers fell into a routine while the Inquisitor was in Crestwood. The Lieutenant on duty would stay in Cullen’s office more or less their entire shift, and make a concerted effort to get the man far enough ahead of his work that he would at least entertain the concept of sleep.

Knight-Lietenant Delrin Barris called an informal meeting of the Lieutenants while Eamon was on duty one afternoon.

“This isn’t going to work,” he told them once he had Killeen, Roz, Baudin, Jenson, and Tamson sitting around a table in the Herald’s Rest. “The Commander isn’t staying awake because of work. He’s staying awake because he’s withdrawing from lyrium.”

“What does that even mean?” Jenson asked.

“And how do you know?” Tamson added.

“I know because Seeker Cassandra made me her second, in charge of the lyrium stores. I know precisely how many people take lyrium, how much they take, and when they take it, in order to make sure we always have enough on hand. So when I tell you that the Commander isn’t taking it, it’s because, first, _I’m not giving him any_ , second, the Seeker outright told me, and third, that’s what happens when you leave the Order. Cullen was completely out of the order for months before the Herald came to Therinfall to recruit the templars, and in the meantime he quit taking lyrium.”

“So not taking lyrium means he can’t sleep?” Killeen asked.

“Not quite,” Delrin answered. “Insomnia is a side-effect of withdrawal, yes. But the Commander… Cullen saw some terrible things. He was in Kinloch hold during the Blight. Knight-Commander Gregoire called for the Rite of Anullment, and would have cleared the entire Circle if Queen Moira hadn’t shown up and killed the blood mages there. Fully half the mages died, and over a quarter of the templars too. And then he left there and went to _Kirkwall_ of all places.”

“Nightmares,” Killeen said, catching the direction of Delrin’s story. “He’s haunted by what he’s seen, and knows what’s waiting for him if he falls asleep.”

Delrin nodded. “He’ll likely only sleep when he’s fully exhausted, which is honestly going to make it worse.”

“So what do we do?” Roz asked, leaning forward.

“Nothing,” Delrin shrugged. “Seeker Cassandra is monitoring him, and the rest of the council is aware. The Inquisitor talked to me about it once, so I am confident he is getting all the help he will agree to.”

“So why tell us?” Roz leaned away from the table and crossed her arms. “You’ve just made us feel helpless.”

“Look, it’s going to get worse long before it gets better,” Delrin said, laying his palms flat on the table. “I owed it to you to let you know what was coming. He’s going to get short-tempered. At some point… hopefully not any time soon, but this could kill him. If we’re lucky, he’ll only fall ill and need us to step up. But you need to be prepared for Cullen to be removed from leadership, just in case.”

“Maker’s breath,” Jenson breathed. “It could _kill him_?”

Delrin nodded. “Nobody quits lyrium. Not permanently. Older templars slowly go crazy, and the lyrium takes their minds. They keep drinking it until the end. If you are removed from the Order, you find another source of lyrium somewhere. The Carta, other smugglers. Or, now, the red.”

“And if you leave the Order?” Killeen asked. “Like Cullen did?”

“To the best of my knowledge, Cullen is the only templar who has left the order without becoming a Warden. Wardens have mages and so have a source for lyrium. Cullen… is doing something unprecedented.”

They all fell silent as the weight of what Delrin Barris was saying settled in.

“Tell your men,” Killeen said softly. “The templars know, so our soldiers need to know. Don’t make a big deal of it. Any questions, send them to ask the templars, they’ll have a better explanation than any of us can manage.”

Delrin was nodding. “That’s fair. Our templars are about universally in awe of what Cullen’s doing – and how well he’s managing it. They’ll have a positive spin for anyone looking for answers.”

“For now, we’ll leave off the _potentially fatal_ bit of the story. Let that slowly seep out later. We can start stealing work from him, lower his load, and keep interruptions to a minimum.” Killeen seemed to think for a moment before continuing. “And we should tell the Inquisitor if he gets bad. Keep her updated, in case he doesn’t.”

“Why the Inquisitor?” Baudin asked. “Isn’t Seeker Cassandra watching him?”

Jenson and Killeen exchanged an exasperated look. “Did you see them on the battlements?”

“Who?”

Jenson dropped her head to the table with an audible _thud_. “The Inquisitor and the Commander are _involved_." Killeen said. "If there’s anyone who would have a vested interest in the quality of the Commander’s sleep, it’s the Herald.”

Baudin seemed thunderstruck. “The… Herald? The Commander and _the Herald_?”

“Andraste’s ass, man,” Delrin asked, aghast, “where have you been?”

“How did you miss that?” Roz chimed in. “I wasn’t even _here_ that day and I heard about it.”

“Rylen was out near the Storm Coast that whole week, and _he_ heard about it.” Tamson added.

Baudin looked around the table, grinning foolishly. “Look at you gossiping women.”

“They made out on the battlements like a couple of _teenagers_ ,” Delrin retorted. “If you can’t see what’s happening on our battlements, man, you are in the _wrong job_.”

They all joining in ribbing Baudin then, the meeting breaking up shortly thereafter. Killeen made a bee line for Higgins’ tent, waking the man up to tell him everything she’d heard.

“So what do we do?” Higgins asked as she finished.

“He’s our Commander. He’s brought us together, led us, taught us, saved us in Haven. We do what we can to help him.” Killeen dropped down onto the cot beside Higgins. “And, if we are serious about being the Herald’s friend…? We do what we can to keep him whole while she’s away.”

“That sounds an awful lot like interfering, Lieut,” Higgins said, his voice a warning.

“Interfering in the same sense that you throwing the Herald over your shoulder and carrying her back to Aieyla that night in camp was interfering.”

“She was going to fall face-first into a snow drift,” Higgins protested.

“Same concept,” Killeen shrugged. “We have to keep Cullen from faceplanting in the snow.”


	35. Cullen and Higgins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Cullen has a conversation with Nuggins.  
> By popular request.

“Higgins.” Cullen said sharply as the soldier reported to the Commander’s office promptly at Second Bell the day after the meeting of the Lieutenants. Higgins was instantly convinced that secret was out; although why the Commander would approach him instead of Killeen was beyond him.

“Ser. Good afternoon, ser.”

Cullen gestured for Higgins to stand before his desk as he stood. With a deliberate, even stride, Cullen paced to each of the doors and loudly locked them, completely unnerving Higgins.

“Ser?”

Cullen didn’t answer until he sat back down, and then only after leaning forward over folded hands. “You need to be more forthcoming with me, Higgins,” he said softly, in a tone that raised all the hairs on Higgins’ neck.

“I have never, not once, lied to you, ser,” he said immediately.

“When did you tell Killeen the contents of the Brown report?”

Higgins’ jaw dropped. “Are you serious, ser? I am not sure if knowing would help her or hurt her, and I am glad it wasn’t my decision to make, whether or not she would be told. I sure as shit didn’t tell her; she doesn’t even know I’m the one what picked it up from the Nightingale.”

“How, then, would she know to send a letter to Brown’s family in Gwaren?”

Higgins shook his head. “I don’t know, ser. Have you asked the Nightingale?”

Cullen frowned at him. “Do you think I would ask her before asking you?”

Higgins risked a small smile. “I suspect she would be the last person _anyone_ would approach, ser.”

Cullen nodded, half to himself. “For what it’s worth, I did not tell her it was you who collected the report that morning. Lieutenant Killeen was… displeased is not a strong enough word, but it is the one I will use. She was _displeased_ I did not disclose the nature of Brown's decision to join the Inquisition. You can likely imagine how that conversation went.”

Higgins could, indeed. Killeen could be a right bully, but this was still the Commander, and he’d once _scruffed_ the _Herald_ , so it probably hadn’t ended well for Killeen.

“Very well,” Cullen said after a moment’s thought. “Our next point of business, then. I would care for an explanation for _Higgins’ Song_.”

Higgins felt his blood run cold.

“I don’t have one.”

“Don’t have a song? Or don’t have an explanation?”

“Either. But mostly the explanation.”

“You cannot expect me to believe that,” the Commander replied, his tone deceptively mild.

“I don’t ser, but that is all I can say.”

Cullen tented an eyebrow but otherwise waited. Higgins fought the urge to grovel.

“I didn’t write it, ser. But if you expect me to tell you who did, or who sang it, or who circulated it… well, then, ser, you don’t know me very well. I did what I could to kill it. And the rightful title is _The Templar’s Lament_ , for what it’s worth. I am no templar.”

“No,” Cullen agreed. “You are not. But you cannot deny certain aspects point rather clearly in your direction. And your …relationship… with the Inquisitor is not entirely, well… normal.”

“Ser,” Higgins said, practically falling over in his haste to disabuse the Commander of _that_ notion. “Ser, no. Ser, the Herald is the _Herald_. She isn’t… I don’t… No. Ser, just, no. _No_.”

Cullen merely lifted that eyebrow again.

“I felt bad for her when she woke up. In Haven,” Higgins explained, hurriedly. “Nobody even bothered to ask her _name_. Can you imagine, waking up _then_ , the world gone mad, and nobody even having the decency to ask your name?”

Cullen apparently had not, and the calm façade slipped briefly. Higgins, encouraged, forged ahead. “So I did. I asked her name. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, so I told her what _I_ had done, my first day there. I introduced her to Killeen and… and Glennon. And then, when she came to camp to meet everyone, I introduced her to Brown. She asked me to always treat her that way. She wants me – and Killeen, and Eamon, and Aillis, and everybody I’ve ever seen her talk to, if we’re honest – to call her by her name, and not her title. She sneaks up on us in the bar and plays cards and she just wants to _be people_. Like Sera always tells her to do. And, ser…” Higgins paused, nearly out of breath as his words tumbled out in haste. “Ser. _She’s saved all of us_. Every last one of us. Given her _life_ , over and over again. If all she wants in return is for me to tell her jokes and not call her by her title, don’t I owe that to her?”

Cullen put his hands up, palms out, as Higgins’ words ran out. “I understand, Higgins. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” The Commander took a steadying breath. “I only meant she clearly favors you.”

“I had the gumption to do what she asked,” Higgins replied, his tone almost stern. “ _What. She. Asked._ No more, no less. And the one time I didn’t… when she popped open my lung in that Avvar mudhole and saved my life, I just couldn’t do it anymore. She’s the Andraste of our times, and she saved my life – me, personally – and I just couldn’t… She was my _savior_ and I couldn’t stomach not treating her like it. And, well… Ser, I disappointed her. I can never – _will_ never – disappoint her again.”

Cullen repeated the hand gesture – meant to mollify the soldier. “Be that as it may,” he allowed. “It is _your name_ attached to the song. The _exceptionally inappropriate song_ about the Herald.”

“Please, ser. Believe me when I say this: if I knew who decided to call it that, I would break his face.”

Cullen coughed a laugh, a ghost of a sound that was gone as quickly as it came, but worked a miracle on Higgins’ growing panic.

“All due respect, ser,” Higgins said softly into the uncomfortable silence. “There’s a reason the song calls her _our Commander’s Queen_. There’s not a man with eyes in his head who can’t see you two are-“

“That’s quite enough,” Cullen interrupted him, but not unkindly. He wasn’t smiling, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes showed his pleasure at the thought.

“I mean, right out on the battlements, in front of _everybody_ -“

“I said, that’s _enough_ ,” Cullen stated, knifing his right hand in Higgins’ direction. Higgins clenched his jaw against the smile he felt threatening to emerge and cause his immediate annihilation.

“Yes, ser,” he said instead, and Cullen sat back.

“We have to keep it from her,” he said, eyes focused at some point miles behind Higgins.

“She likes it,” Higgins replied, startling Cullen into a deep frown.

“Pardon?”

“She snuck out into camp, the day after she got tore up by the rift-“

“How do you know about _that_?” Cullen cried, sitting forward and interrupting him.

Higgins shrugged. “Killer and I guessed. The Inquisitor confirmed it, that night in camp. Point is, I left a letter with Aieyla to give the Inquisitor that said I had _nothing to do_ with the song what was going around. She got curious and followed Maryden out to hear it. Scared half the life out of Killeen, stepping out of the shadow by our tents. She told us she liked it, liked the different voices in it. Best part was how she said _you_ couldn’t ever hear it.”

Cullen brought both hands up to rub his face wearily. “What else has the Inquisitor told you?”

Higgins chuckled. “Honest, ser, there’s not enough time in my shift for all that.”

It was the wrong response, and he knew it as soon as it cleared his lips. Cullen’s eyebrows came together in a furious scowl. A sudden pounding on the door cut off whatever words he was preparing to scour Higgins with.

“What?” Cullen bellowed.

“Word from Crestwood,” Sister Leliana’s voice called sweetly.

Cullen gestured for Higgins to open the door. As he opened it, Leliana leaned close to him and told him in a voice loud enough for the Commander to hear, “Run.”

Higgins banged his fist to his chest in a salute as he bolted out the door.

“Killeeeeeeeeen,” he said as he stumbled to a halt at his Lieutenant’s side.

“Woah, what happened, Nuggins?”

“Commander heard the fucking song. He might kill me. Leliana just bought me a stay of execution.”

“Dorian is in the library. I’ll say he requisitioned you. I’ll send Snyder up to take your place as a runner. _Go_.”

Higgins dug his heels into the cobblestones and fled into the keep, taking the back stairs from the kitchens to get into the upper levels without being seen by anyone who might report him to the Commander.

“Problem, Nuggins?” the Tevinter asked calmly as Higgins careened into the library.

“Commander doesn’t like the song,” Higgins answered, and Dorian leapt out of his chair.

“I have a pressing need for assistance in the old library,” Dorian said, motioning for Higgins to follow him. “I’ll talk to Killeen and get you assigned to my protection for the time being. Maker only knows what unsavory and unexpected traps I might stumble into down there.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser,” Higgins breathed.

“No thanks necessary,” Dorian replied as he glided into the lower levels. “If the Commander killed you, Evelyn would be forced to flence his spleen, and _then_ where would my romantic notions be? No, I’m thinking only of myself here.”

“Well, then, I greatly appreciate your expansive sense of self, ser,” Higgins amended.

“No trouble at all, Nuggins. No trouble at all.”

  

*

 

“He’s still looking for you, you know,” Aillis told him a few afternoons later as she brought him and Dorian a late lunch. Eamon had given her the patrol route that snaked through the main hall, and she had surreptiously lifted a tray of meat pies on her way through the kitchen.

Higgins grunted. “It’s really not my fault. I don’t know what he wants me to tell him. I mean to just stay out of his way until he sees reason.”

“You going to train tomorrow?” she asked in between bites of meat pie.

“I think I have to,” he conceded sadly. “If he censures me for skipping training, there’s nothing Killeen can do to protect me.”

“Eamon and I will be there,” Aillis smiled reassuringly at him. “Between us and Killeen we will keep the Commander off you if he shows.”

“Now might be the time to study stealth,” Dorian said from the top of the ladder, where he was cataloging and cleaning books.

“As soon as the Inquisitor gets back, I’ll have her give me a lesson,” Higgins agreed.

The Commander was not in the practice ring when Higgins and Killeen arrived the next morning. Crews and Engle were already paired off and sparring, and the rest of Killeen’s and Eamon’s companies were milling around the edges of the ring.

“There he is!” a voice called, and Higgins instinctively sought out the speaker. He was dismayed to see Snyder pointing at him, Gibbs and Heftner to either side. “Our Inquisitor’s paramour, finally come out of hiding. I heard the Commander nearly killed you out of sheer jealousy.”

“I’ve got this,” Killeen said, reaching for Higgins’ elbow. She missed – he was already striding across the ring.

Every man had his limit. Higgins had just reached his.

He slowed as he neared Snyder, shortening his strides so his last step would be with his left foot. He set his right foot, reached back, and threw a right cross that exploded Snyder’s nose.

Gibbs recovered from shock faster than Heftner did, and launched himself at Higgins, but Higgins had anticipated the move and already ducked, catching Gibbs’ stomach with his shoulder. He straightened and threw his attacker over his back. He got his left hand up in time to block Heftner’s jab and returned a cross that snapped Heftner’s head around and dropped him like a sack of bricks.

Snyder was wiping the blood out of his eyes, roaring, and began to lunge at Higgins before a harsh shout pulled them all up short.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?”

Higgins turned and snapped to attention as Commander Cullen strode across the training ground.

“Snyder was slandering the Inquisitor, ser,” a voice chimed from over Killeen’s shoulder – Ringwold, of all people. “Accused our Herald of… well… it was plain inappropriate, ser, and Higgins took offense.”

Cullen’s face went flat.

“Snyder?”

Snyder, in view of several dozen witnesses, wisely kept his mouth shut. Heftner was slowly regaining consciousness on the ground at their feet, and Gibbs lifted himself out of the dirt with a groan and a hand to the back of his head.

“You’re telling me,” Cullen said slowly, “that you thought to defame the Herald where _Higgins_ could hear you?”

A snort from behind them – Eamon, most like – opened the door to a round of laughter from the gathered soldiers and templars.

“He had to, since Higgins was the subject of the defamation,” Killeen said angrily. “I won’t have that sort of bullshit in my unit.”

“Understood,” Cullen said, gesturing for Killeen to wait.

Higgins, still at attention, was visibly quivering with rage. “Permission to continue, ser.”

Cullen coughed a laugh, shaking his head. “I think the odds are a bit unfair there, soldier.”

“I can take them, ser.”

“I meant unfair for _them_ , Higgins.”

Eamon snorted again, as Snyder stiffened with the insult.

“We don’t have room for malcontents in the ranks of the Inquisition,” Cullen told them. “But I will not bear the burden of deciding your fate. Will anyone here speak for Snyder? Heftner? Gibbs?”

All three names were followed by silence.

“Will anyone speak for Higgins, then?”

Dozens of voices were raised in his defense.

“Very well, then. Eamon, as these are not your men, please take witness statements. Deliver them to Josephine at your earliest convenience. Have these three taken to the keep and incarcerated until such time as the Inquisitor returns to judge them.”

“No, ser,” Heftner cried, terrified. “I’ve no need to be judged by the Herald. I’ll take my discharge right now and be gone.”

“I’m sure the Inquisitor will take your desire under advisement,” Cullen said mildly. “Be sure to tell her of it.”

With Heftner wailing, Snyder holding a torn-off sleeve of his tunic to his broken nose and Gibbs trudging solemnly behind, Aillis and three other templars escorted them into the keep. Higgins finally stood at ease.

“For shame, Higgins,” Cullen said teasingly when they were gone. “Only three of them? What’s next, kicking kittens?”

Higgins laughed, shaking his head. “I would say I didn’t start it, ser, but the only punch that landed was mine, so that would be a lie. I will try not to take such advantage in the future.”

Cullen clapped him on the shoulder. “You do that. If I hear of you fighting again, I will be greatly disappointed to hear it was any less than six against one. Now, show me how far along you are with your shield training.”


	36. Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aillis throws a wrench into the works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might think I'm jumping the shark... but stick with me, my story gets better.

“Are you busy?” Aillis asked, dropping to the ground next to Higgins in front of the fire.

Higgins shrugged, gesturing at the shield – Glennon’s shield – in front of him. “Cleaning, is all. Word from the Western Approach is bad, Killeen is expecting marching orders to start down the pipe in the morning. Wanted to get Karl’s shield battle ready.”

“I think it’s great, you keeping his shield,” she smiled, settling in to watch him work. “It’s like he’ll still be protecting you.”

Higgins smiled back at her, much to his surprise. “I sure hope so.”

After a few minutes of silence, Aillis sighed. “I actually… had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I figured,” Higgins grinned. “This isn’t the most exciting thing you could be doing on your evening off, I’m sure.”

“Do you… love… Evelyn?” she asked hesitantly.

“The Inquisitor?”

“Is there another Evelyn?”

Higgins snorted. “Yes. Probably a lot of them.”

“Do you love _the Herald_ , then?”

Higgins sighed. “She’s like Andraste, Aillis. Do you love Andraste?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“It’s like that, then. Except instead of being this long-dead person, she’s right in front of me and she wants to be my friend. So it’s like being friends with Andraste. I don’t know where _love_ fits into that, but I’m sure its in there somehow.”

“But you’re not… jealous of the Commander?”

Higgins snorted again. “Not hardly. First, the woman is terrifying. Second, she’s so far above me I’m always surprised she remembers I exist. It’s like an ant and an eagle. And, third… you were there in the tavern when Lace called me on it. I’m not the relationship type.”

“Does that mean you don’t love? Or just that you don’t want to sleep with anyone?”

“Where is this coming from?” Higgins turned to her, setting the shield aside. “I trust you, Aillis, and I’ll tell you anything you ask. But this is all so weird, like lightning from a blue sky.”

Aillis sighed. “I… have this stupid crush. And …they… don’t even know I exist. And …they… are so obviously enamored of someone else that I’m sure they’ll never glance twice my way.”

“Maker’s nosehair, Aillis, at least tell me if it’s a _he_ or a _she_. You know I don’t gossip.”

“She, alright?”

Higgins shrugged. “Alright. So whoever _she_ is, she’s obviously remarkable to catch your eye. But, you have to know: I’m worthless at advice in this field. You’d be better off talking to _literally anyone else_.”

“I don’t want advice,” Aillis argued. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“Plausible deniability.”

“Say _what_?”

Aillis smirked, a wisp of a smile that was gone as quickly as it came. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want to be mocked as some kind of… mooning idiot.”

“That didn’t work out so well for Killeen, in the end,” Higgins cautioned darkly.

“What? Killeen? Who was she mooning over?”

“Not mooning, so much,” he answered, glancing around before continuing. “She and Brown were in love. She didn’t tell anyone, and when he died… she was so alone. Couldn’t talk to anyone about it, just had to sit there and listen to everyone else remembering him. It was salt in the wound.”

Aillis stared at him, stunned. “Killeen and Brown? Really?”

“Don’t spread it around. I didn’t tell you to be a gossip, I told you to warn you. Killeen didn’t want anyone to know and it came back to haunt her. I can’t say you’d be better off, since obviously your circumstances are different. But it’s something to consider.”

“Will you pretend to be my lover?” She asked suddenly.

Higgins’ jaw dropped. “Will I _what_?”

“If I’m _with_ someone, no one will guess that I… you know. That I’m stupidly in love with someone else who won’t ever love me. But I don’t want to string anyone along. So I thought, since you’re not looking to be with anyone, you wouldn’t be losing anything by helping me.”

Higgins buried his face in his hands. “There is so much wrong with this theory.”

“If you don’t want to-“ Aillis pushed up with her hands, moving to stand, and Higgins grabbed her wrist quickly.

“Don’t… just give me a minute,” he said. “I just… I have no idea how to explain this.”

Aillis sat back down.

“I love,” Higgins said eventually. “I have no shortage of love in my life. I had brothers and sisters, both in my own family and with the Glennons. I was in love with a girl, once. When she figured out I wasn’t ever going to want to marry her, to father her children, she moved on. To Karl, if I’m honest… we were always a lot alike, so she probably figured he was the next best thing. Mallory,” he breathed her name, remembering. “She was at the Conclave. Glennon wouldn’t ever talk about it.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Aillis said, placing a hand to Higgins’ knee. Higgins covered her fingers with his own with a small smile.

“Thank you.”

They sat quietly for a minute before Higgins spoke again. “I won’t lie, Aillis. If you want me to tell everyone we’re sleeping together, I won’t do it. If you want to sit with me by the fire at night and be close to me, I’d be a damn fool to say no. Especially when we're marching out to fight _fucking Wardens_ and might all be headed to our deaths. It would be nice to hold someone's hand before I die. The best I can promise is to just refuse to talk about it with anyone.”

Aillis moved closer to Higgins, so she was seated beside him and pressed against him, knee to knee and hip to hip. With a dip of her shoulder, she pulled one of Higgins’ arms around her. “I can agree to those terms,” she said.

 

*

 

“You and _Aillis_?” Killeen asked without preamble as they marched to the Western Approach.

Higgins sighed. He hadn’t counted on having to stand up to Killeen. “What of it, Lieut?”

“But I thought you… you said… what the _fuck_ , Nuggins.”

“I don’t gossip, Killer,” he said, a bit sadly. “You can try to get information out of Aillis if you want to.”

“Do I need to? She was in your fucking lap yesterday. Waltzed right into my camp and plopped down in _my soldier’s lap_.”

There was something in her voice that raised alarms in Higgins’ head. “You’re sounding awful possessive there, Lieutenant.”

Killeen flushed red and then turned on her heel, muttering something about formations and outpacing the supply train as she disappeared from view. Higgins took a minute to wallow in abject misery.

“I think Killeen is jealous,” he whispered into Aillis’ ear after she threw herself into his lap beside the fire. Killeen took one look at them and stalked off.

“Maker’s mistress,” Aillis breathed, watching the Lieutenant flee. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow, get it sorted for you.”

Higgins dropped his head to her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and taking several long breaths. Aillis, he decided, smelled _fantastic_. Something vaguely fruity under the layers of leather and woodsmoke, with the slight burn of magic at the end that reminded him she was a _templar_ and regularly drank _lyrium_.

“What’s it like?” he asked, without lifting his head.

“What’s what like?”

“Lyrium.”

“What made you think of that?”

Higgins pointedly sniffed behind her ear, causing Aillis to giggle and swat at him.

“It's like nothing else,” she said after considering the question. “It is focus and power and security. It doesn’t give you those things, it _is_ those things. It starts off as a boost. Like your first cup of coffee, but a thousand times more potent. As time goes on, it becomes …necessary. Like water. I cannot fathom how Cullen must feel without it.”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Higgins admitted.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing its not anything you have to worry about,” Aillis answered archly.

He had to laugh. “Point made.”

Killeen avoided him the next day, until Aillis snagged her out of formation and dragged her to the side of the column to have a heated – and surprisingly one-sided – conversation that left Killeen looking thoroughly embarrassed and Aillis rather smug.

“Do I want to know?” Higgins asked the Lieutenant when she fell into step beside him.

“Doesn’t matter if you do. I don’t have one fucking word to say to you about it.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, and the subject was dropped. If they didn’t feel _as_ easy around each other, it was no more than could be expected.

It was well over a week before they reached their destination. The ancient Grey Warden fortress of Adamant loomed menacingly over the horizon, Grey Wardens teeming on the walls.

“We’re not all going to survive this,” Killeen breathed. Aillis stood next to Higgins and threaded her fingers through his. Her hand in his was steadying, a reminder of what it was they were doing here, what they were fighting for. For the first time, Higgins felt confident he had made the right decision in regards to Aillis. After a few long moments, he felt Killeen’s hand brush against his free palm, and he wound their fingers together. Standing hand-in-hand, the three of them gazed down at Adamant and wondered which of them would make the journey home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked into it, and I've got one more I can post before I leave. Your last update in the month of May will be coming down the pipe on Tuesday.


	37. Battle Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best-laid schemes of mice and men...

The meeting outside Cullen’s tent that night was tense.

Each Lieutenant was instructed to bring with them a soldier they wished to designate their second, to lead their unit in case they fell. Cullen started off the meeting by having Rylen drop to one knee and promoting the ‘Marcher to Captain.

“Captain Rylen is hereafter my second-in-command. Behind him stands Delrin Barris. If we three all should fall, command will fall to Cassandra and then to whichever of you may still live according to seniority. Questions?”

Higgins, standing at Killeen’s shoulder, shook his head solemnly with the rest. They were preparing to lay siege to a fortress full of _Wardens_ , the legendary warriors capable of standing toe-to-toe with archdemons. The fight against the Fifth Blight was won by only _two_ of these giants. The thought of a full army of men and women with the same faculties as the Hero of Ferelden was, as Glennon would have called it, _pucker-factor nine_.

“Any tighter and we would never shit again,” he murmured to Killeen, who flinched with the sudden need to _not laugh_.

“Care to share, Higgins?” the Commander asked mildly. Because _of course the Commander saw_.

As Killeen shook her head vigorously, Higgins pitched his voice to carry. “Glennon would have called this ‘pucker factor nine,’ ser. If we were any more scared of the Wardens our assholes would clench permanently shut.”

The assembled officers burst into laughter in spite of themselves, Cullen shaking his head as he joined them.

“May that be my lesson,” he answered when silence again reigned. “I will remember not to ask what you’re thinking.”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins agreed with a salute.

“I wish there was something I could say to alleviate that fear,” Cullen addressed them all. “But I will not lie to you. Adamant is ancient but well-fortified. The wardens within are either controlled by Corypheus, leashed to demons, or utterly loyal to their command. The Inquisitor will do what she can to bring Wardens to our side – any Warden who stands down will be considered an ally unless they take action otherwise, and that is something that _must_ be explained to your individual commands.”

He paused for a round of curt nods.

Aillis, at Eamon’s shoulder, caught Higgins’ eye and gave him the most reassuring smile she could. Templars were trained to fight abominations; she had likely seen more than her share. Higgins tried to take comfort from the thought that nearly a quarter of their force was battle-hardened templars.

“Tamson, Chambreterre – sorry, Roz – volunteers have been assigned to your commands. You will be responsible for our flanks; supply lines must stay intact and that will ultimately be left to you. With some luck, you will have a boring time of it.”

Roz and Tamson both nodded, stepping back. Higgins didn’t recognize either of their seconds.

“Rylen will be at my side, and any order from him will be accepted as if it came from me. His company has taken command of the trebuchets at the rear of our forces, here. For so long as we are not flanked, Tamson and Roz will lend men to support them.”

Another round of nods. Cullen paused then, drawing in a long and weary breath.

“We will seek to enter Adamant in two ways: here,” he put a finger to the front gates on the map of Adamant spread before him on a rickety table, “where the ram Lady Josephine’s allies provided will require nearly a full company to operate. Second, here,” he ran his hands along two of the exterior walls of the keep, “where scaling ladders will be brought up to send men over the walls. We expect heavy casualties in the first groups to enter the keep, there’s no way around it.”

“We’ll take the ram. Ser.” Higgins said, nudging Killeen forward. She managed to mask her surprise. “Decision shouldn’t be on the officers. We’ve talked amongst ourselves, in Killer’s company, and we know what we’re asking for. We’ll take the ram.”

Cullen gazed across the table at Higgins, the assembled officers silent but for a few heavy gulps and a muted sniffle.

“And we’ve got the walls,” Jenson’s second, an Orlesian named DeForest said, stepping forward. He’d followed Jenson into her company, when she’d been promoted to fill Brown’s command. “Aside from Killer’s company, we’ve got the most men from Haven. We know what’s at stake, and we understand the risk. We want the walls.” Jenson’s eyes filled with proud tears, and she straightened before nodding her agreement to the Commander.

“Your statements will be noted,” Cullen said, motioning to one of Leliana’s men who was seated nearby, taking down their every word.

“Templars – Eamon, Delrin, you will enter through the gates as soon as Killeen’s men have them open. Baudin, your company will support Jenson’s on the walls. Killeen, when the gates are open, you will pull the ram clear from the causeway and regroup before following the templars into the keep. Questions?”

There were many, and Higgins was eager to hear them all. The templars, in particular, were getting very specific about some details Higgins would never have thought to consider, and he did his best to absorb everything that was said. It was nearly two hours before Cullen called them to a close.

“We start at first light. Get what rest you can.”

Maryden was sitting at their fire when Killeen and Higgins returned to their encampment. They had little to say; Higgins informed the company that their offer to man the battering ram had been accepted, and his announcement was met with grim nods but no conversation. Maryden, without preamble, started to play.

She played straight through until morning. When twilight seeped into camp and the soldiers marched past in single file, reaching out to brush her shoulders, her lute, Maryden sang as tears streamed down her face.

_Oh, Grey Warden, what have you done?_

_The oath you have taken is all but broken._

_All is undone. Demons have come_

_To destroy this peace we have had for so long._

_Ally or Foe? Maker only knows._

_Ally or Foe? The Maker only knows._

_The stronghold lives on, the army’s reborn,_

_Compelled to forge on. What will we become?_

_Can you be forgiven when the cold grave has come?_

_Or will you have won? Or will battle rage on?_

_Oh, Grey Warden, what have you done?_

_The oath you have taken is all but broken._

_All is undone. Ash in the sun,_

_Cast into darkness the light we had won._

_Ally or Foe? Maker only knows._

_Ally or Foe? The Maker only knows._

_The stronghold lives on, the army’s reborn,_

_Compelled to forge on. What will we become?_

_Can you be forgiven when the cold grave has come?_

_Or will you have won? Or will battle rage on?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter (when I get home, in June) is Adamant.  
> It won't be as bad as Haven, I promise.


	38. Entering Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle at the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning from my hotel! I'm waiting to check in, they gave me the WiFi password, so I'm starting in on Adamant today. I got 50K words written from the balcony of my suite on the cruise ship - in a different universe, #MaryFail. I will rededicate myself to the conclusion of Higgins' story when I return home tomorrow night. <3

“I’m right behind you,” her voice ghosted into his awareness. It was several seconds before it registered, the steady _thump_ of marching feet and the rattle of his heart against his ribs briefly drowning her out.

“Inquisitor?”

A black blur in his peripheral vision did more to calm his nerves than all the beer in Thedas.

“My team is right behind you, Higgins. You’re our ticket into this shitshow. Solas will keep a barrier up on as many of you as he can, but it’s not failsafe. It won’t stop a boulder, or a bolt from Bianca – don’t ask me how I know that one – so keep your shields up.”

Higgins let out a long breath as he nodded. “I think I’d rather not spread the word, don’t want them to get sloppy.”

Her laugh at his shoulder was warmer than the sunshine on his armor. “Tell me again why you aren’t a Lieutenant yet?”

“I fucking hate paperwork, ser.”

Her laugh stayed with him as he raised Glennon’s shield over his head and put a hand to Crews’ shoulder, the broad ‘Marcher an obvious choice to man the battering ram. “Stay with me. Regardless of what happens, you stay under this shield. Do you get me?”

“I get you, ser,” Crews barked back.

“And don’t you fucking _ser_ me again, Crews.”

“All due respect, ser, I will call you _ser_ for as long as you’re holding that fucking shield over my head. Ser!”

The Inquisitor was laughing again, and somehow it stretched a veil over the horror as it unfolded, taking some of the pain out of the carnage.

_The Inquisitor has my back_ , Higgins made a mantra in his mind, chanting it as he called out incoming attacks.

The first strike of the ram against the gates was an invitation to slaughter.

Meyer was the first down, as he turned his back to the wall and dropped his shield to yell something about their progress to those at the back of the ram. A boulder caught him square in the back of the head. Higgins shook his head at Killeen’s shouted inquiry; the pinkish ooze on the boulder as it rolled towards the ram told Higgins the man’s skull was crushed, he was beyond help.

“EYES UP, ASSHATS,” Killeen bellowed.

Ringwold took an arrow to the shoulder, Solas’ barrier likely keeping it from his heart. He was their token rogue – specializing in identifying enemy rogues and alerting their company before a single assassin could wreak havoc. He had a borrowed shield – maybe one of the spare templar towers from the training ring – and he resolutely kept it over his head and kept his charge at the ram under cover.

“We’ll get it when the gates are open,” he gritted to Higgins across the framework. “I’m not leaving you, Davis, keep at it,” he told the Fereldan he was covering, getting only a grunt in return.

The Inquisitor was invisible, Varric and Solas under shield cover behind Cassandra, but their sheer presence gave Higgins courage. “THREE MORE!” he roared, and a rough shout answered him, the men on the ram practically screaming with the effort.

Somebody on Killeen’s side of the ram took an arrow high, Higgins didn’t see who or where exactly, but they were scrambling off to the side and someone else taking their place before the archers above them could reload.

Jenson’s company must have gotten onto the walls, because suddenly there were bodies of wardens and demons falling onto the ram instead of boulders, and the defiant shouts turned into the clang of steel and the cries of the dying.

“TWO MORE!” Higgins called.

The gate splintered with the next strike.

“ONE MORE AND WE’RE THROUGH! HOLD IT TOGETHER!” Killeen’s voice roared from somewhere to his right.

“You got this, Crews!” Higgins called.

A _ping_ announced an arrow ricochet, and Higgins felt a broadhead knick his cheek as it spun past at an angle he couldn’t account for. “Shields _up_ , Elliot, you deflected that into your allies!” Ringwold shouted at the soldier next to him.

The men clinging to the ram raised up a desperate shout then, digging into the mud and propelling forward with nearly inhuman strength. The ancient gates of Adamant split open.

Higgins, knowing damn well what his orders were, held position only long enough for Crews to unsling his shield before throwing himself through the gates. The Warden who met him was down almost before Higgins knew what had happened, his sword sliding out of the gap at the armhole of the warrior’s armor. Killeen, beside him, bashed her shield into a warden’s face, slashing her sword across his throat when his neck snapped back.

There was a sound behind them – shields moving, a crossbow safety releasing, daggers whirling through the air – and the Inquisitor lept through the broken gates, landing lightly behind Higgins, Cassandra charging to the fore.

“PULL BACK! THEY’RE THROUGH!” a warden in an elaborate griffin-wing helm called from the bailey wall, and the defenses at the gate crumbled.

Cassandra jerked her chin, indicating she was in position and Higgins could withdraw. Higgins reached made a motion with his hand, and Killeen nodded her understanding. They backed out of the gates just as the Commander was shouldering through.

“I believe you had orders to secure the ram before engaging?” he demanded of Killeen.

“First one through usually dies, ser,” Higgins said before his Lieutenant could go to bat for him. “We would all rather it was me than the Inquisitor.”

Cullen’s jaw shut with a click, and he waved for Higgins and Killeen to go back to their company. He strode forward to address the Inquisitor, and then came back out to take cover with Killeen’s unit while they got the ram out of the line of fire – Maker forbid they would need it again later, but wars were won with foresight, not hindsight.

“Take it along that wall,” he shouted to Killeen, pointing off to their right. “Hawke went up the ladders there, you’ll meet the least resistance.”

They hauled the ram along the wall and then waited until the fighting above them ceased before carrying the ram ponderously across the battlefield. When they were out of accurate bowrange, Roz’s company met them and took possession of the battering ram. There was no sign of flanking maneuvers from the wardens – and Leliana’s scouts were ranging far and reporting often.

“All scouts reporting in and currently accounted for, ser,” Roz told the Commander as Killeen’s unit paused for air.

“How many we down?” Higgins gasped to Killeen.

“Six dead, I think,” she answered, straightening up and doing a silent head count. “As many with glancing wounds, twice that with scrapes like yours. Pretty fucking good if you ask me.”

“And I did ask you,” Higgins said absently, looking around for Ringwold, and trotting over to him once he was spotted.

“Through and stuck,” Ringwold said, gesturing at the arrow in his shoulder. “Hand below it is fine – no numbness or cold. I’d bet it missed the artery but I’m no surgeon.”

“Not taking any risks,” Higgins said, reaching awkwardly to draw his shortsword with his right hand and quickly cutting the arrow off even with Ringwold’s armor. “If it’s got the wound staunched, we’ll leave it there. Get your pauldrons off, I’ll wrap it for more stability.”

Ringwold complied, and watched Higgins rapidly dress his wound. “Thought you’d switched to sword-and-shield, and ditched the offhand.”

“I did,” Higgins answered.

“What’s the short sword doing on your offhand side?”

“Never actually fought with the shield before, never had to actually use it to keep somebody from killing me. Figured I couldn’t lose anything by having a backup.”

Ringwold barked a laugh as Killeen caught up to them.

“Fill your canteen, empty your bladder, and get in line, boys,” she said as she watched them work. “Ringwold, what’s your status?”

“Limited use of the left side, so I’ll need cover. But I am coming in with you, Killer, no question. Wardens take all types, there’s guaranteed to be rogues in there. I can’t sit this out.”

Killeen laid a hand gently to his uninjured shoulder. “Good on you, Ringwold. Now get your clothes back on and hop to.”

“Yes, ser!”

“Stick to my right,” Higgins told Ringwold as the company headed back to the gate in formation at a brisk jog. “Don’t make yourself a target – if you see someone stealthed, point him out to me and I’ll call it out.”

“You are barking mad, you know that?” Ringwold replied after agreeing to Higgins’ request.

“That’s why I’m universally fucking adored, according to Dorian,” Higgins retorted. Ringwold was laughing as they crossed the ruined gates of Adamant.


	39. Taking Adamant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having opened the gates, Higgins and company enter the battle for Adamant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to build suspense when we ALL KNOW what happens in Adamant.

They were the cleanup crew, it appeared, as they trailed behind Eamon’s templars. Killeen had them checking for survivors, watching for flanking attacks, and accepting surrenders from wardens. There were two brief scrums where a rogue lept out of the shadows – or, rather, attempted to. Ringwold’s voice was a harsh whisper in Higgin’s ear, alerting him to a presense in side corridors that he called out in alarm to his comrades.

“’WARE ALLEY RIGHT,” he bellowed, sword out and pointed at the shadow Ringwold had said was moving.

Both fights ended almost immediately, with several swords piercing leather and blood soaking into another warden emblem on Adamant’s flagstones.

There were sounds of fighting ahead, and Killeen led them carefully towards it, Higgins and Ringwold in the middle of the column, Crews and Davis in the far back to defend their rear.

They crept down the passage, weak daylight far above them, when suddenly the world plunged into darkness.

“ _Dragon!”_ Engle shouted. They threw themselves against the walls of the passage, hoping the arch demon hadn’t seen them.

“Killeen!” Higgins called up. “We can’t stay here! This hall will channel fire! We have to move!”

No answer.

“KILLEEN!”

When there was still no answer – but a weird milling around at the front of the column – Higgins had Ringwold get close to Engle, telling the ‘Marcher to guard the rogue and sing out if there was an ambush. Then, he slung Glennon’s shield over his back and raced to the front of the column. The scene he discovered made his heart skip.

He could see out into the courtyard beyond, to where a rift pulsed in the middle of the wide span of flagstones. There was a sort of balcony to the right, and bodies _everywhere_. Demons were streaming out of the rift, and Wardens were fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with Inquisition forces against the teeming waves. As he looked up, he saw the dragon rapidly approaching, wings folded in a dive as it swooped over the courtyard.

Most of the men were able to dodge, but a few were grabbed. Whoever was scooped up was scattered over the courtyard on the dragon’s next pass; bloody clumps already dotted the flagstones. If the dragon came up without bodies to mangle, it was ripping stones off the walls and nearby mountains and lobbing those at the combatants instead.

Killeen was on the ground, back to the wall, face bloodless, shield and sword discarded and forgotten. She was covered in sweat, and her eyes were staring at the sky, sightless. Her hands gripped the flagstones so tightly her fingertips were bleeding.

Higgins turned to the next man in line. Sanderson, his name, another stout Fereldan lad. “Go!” He said. “Stay as close as you can to the walls! Pair off – one keep your eyes up for the dragon, the other keep your eyes down on the demons. Either one can kill you. Keep the demons contained until we can get the Inquisitor here to close it. GO!”

The column streamed past him. He waited until he saw Engle get close, and he darted a hand out to grab Ringwold.

“Help me,” he said, pulling the rogue to his side. “Watch my ass while I get Killer someplace safe.”

Ringwold turned, putting his back to the wall, and scanning intently. Higgins pulled Killeen’s arm over his shoulder and coaxed her off the ground. Ringwold scooped up her sword and shield as Higgins staggered a few paces to storeroom, the door intact and open. “Check the room!” He called over his shoulder.

Ringwold was in the room in a flash, both daggers out, leaving Killeen’s sword and shield at the doorjam. “Clear!” he called from inside. Higgins dragged his Lieutenant into the room.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she gritted. Weakly batting at Higgins.

“Just a little shook up, Lieut,” Higgins replied brightly. “Here, got a healing draught for you. One swig and you’ll be back in it.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” she said, in a voice Higgins didn’t quite recognize. When he met her eyes to hand her the draught, he got the distinct impression she was looking right through him.

“One gulp, Killeen, there you go,” he told her as he popped off the cork and put the flask to her lips. She hesitated as the first drops hit her lips, but Higgins tipped her head back and got a full swallow into her before she fought him off.

“That wasn’t a… healing…” she managed before tumbling backwards.

“Definitely not elfroot,” Ringwold agreed with the now-unconscious Lieutenant. “The fuck did you do?”

“Dorian found me yesterday,” Higgins said, strapping Killeen’s shield in front of her and dragging her into a upright position against a sack of flour. “Said he thought Killeen was in worse shape than she was letting on. I guess the Inquisitor found her crying or something some night. Anyways, she apparently saw some rough shit in Haven and never got her head checked by Bull or Solas. So Dorian gave me this, said he hoped I wouldn’t need it, but if Killer had a flashback to Haven I was to give it to her and hide her somewhere safe. She’ll be awake in an hour or two.”

Ringwold was shaking his head. “I’ll sit with her. I’m not good out there, not in this. I’ll stay by the door and watch for rogues, but it looks like the wardens left are allies.”

Higgins clasped Ringwold’s hand. “You’re a good man.”

“Geoff,” he answered. “In case we don’t get out of this….”

“Morty,” Higgins replied. “And we will. The Inquisitor is coming. Just hold tight.”

 

 

*

 

The dragon flew off, bobbing in the air like it was gravely injured. The demons kept coming, and the Inquisition fought on.

The Commander arrived, his face the visage of carefully controlled panic. The demons kept coming; the Inquisition fought on.

Dorian was there, with Vivienne and Cole, Sera and Blackwall. The demons kept coming; the Inquisition fought on.

“Killeen is in the storeroom,” Higgins said during a relative lull, when only wisps and rage demons were ranging the field, in answer to a question from Commander Cullen. “Happened just like Dorian said it would. When the Inquisitor gets here to get the rift closed…”

“If the Inquisitor is coming,” Dorian interrupted, his voice awash with rage, “it will be from _out of_ that rift. She fell from the causeway while fighting the dragon, and opened a rift rather than splatter to the rocks. She’s in the Fade.”

Higgins' blood ran cold. He’d seen what shape Trevelyan was in when she came out of the Fade the last time.

The demons kept coming.

Higgins fought on.

Killeen was suddenly in the fight, appearing at Higgins’ right, Ringwold coming to stand between them and finding cover from both their shields. Aillis joined them, and Higgins adjusted his stance so they formed a loose triangle. Ringwold flitted in and out of cover, shredding anything engaged with the three warriors before popping back into the protective pocket they’d created for him. Higgins lost track of time. The sun was beating down from high overhead, the morning was gone, the battle had raged for far longer than any of them had anticipated. In truth, the Wardens had long since been subdued; it was this damnable rift that was keeping them there. It was spitting out demons at a rate Higgins couldn’t fathom, triple or quadruple the rate of any of the rifts at Haven.

“Next lull!” Commander Cullen called over the slowing clash of swords. “Jenson and Baudin companies, fall back to the gates to regroup!”

“We’ll set up a rotation like Haven if we have to, until we can figure out a way to close this damnable thing. Even if we have to bring Adamant down on top of it.” Cullen gritted to Eamon, a few feet from where Higgins and Killeen were leaning wearily against each other.

Before anyone had a chance to retreat, another wave of demons started to coalesce from the rift.

Started to – but did not.

Varric, Solas, and then Cassandra popped out of the rift in quick succession. Cassandra immediately charged the nearest demon, spitting it with a scream of pent-up rage. Demons were spawning again, and Cullen raced to the Seeker’s side.

“The Inquisitor! Where is she?”

“She was right behind us,” Cassandra shouted, slicing another demon in two.

The time between Cassandra appearing from the rift and the next body through – Hawke, this time – was impossible for Higgins to measure. Only a handful of demons came through, so it could not have been long… but the hope fighting the fear made every second last an eternity.

As Hawke stumbled into Varric’s outstretched arms, Evelyn Trevelyan strode out of the Fade.

Her left hand went up and all the demons on the battlefield were suddenly exploding, bursts of green ooze that streamed back into the rift. She jerked her arm back, and the rift behind her detonated, slamming shut hard enough to throw out a ripple of a shockwave across the filthy flagstones.

She stood there, on a slightly raised ring of stone, chest heaving and shoulders bobbing with harsh breaths that seemed more rage than exhaustion. Her armor was dripping black ichor onto the flagstones, her daggers twirling in her hands setting off green sparks from the left. She tipped back her hood and her eyes practically _glowed_.

“Inquisition!” she called out against the stunned silence. “You have fought well! You have risen to every challenge you have faced! Only the architect of the Inquisition, Divine Justinia Herself, could possibly be more proud of you, of what you have accomplished. We have denied Corypheus his army of demons! We have denied him Adamant! We have denied him the Wardens! We will deny him his _future!_ ” She flung a dagger skyward and they roared their victory at her.

“Stroud gave his life so that Hawke and I could escape,” she called a moment later. “He did this not out of fear or despair, but because it was _the right thing to do_ , the _valiant_ thing to do. He stayed behind to make the statement that _Wardens can make this right_.”

She took another breath, seeming to look everywhere and nowhere at once. “Clarel died battling Corypheus’ dragon, which was summoned here by Erimond, summoned here as a failsafe, in case the wardens decided to _do the right thing_. I stand here and see that you have. You are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the Inquisition, fighting a common foe. You have seen today that what is Right is often not Easy. And I am forced to make the same decision: I choose to do what is right, despite how it may pain me. Corypheus created your false Calling. Corypheus has led you to the brink of madness and beyond. _Corypheus can control you_. So I must send you to safety. GREY WARDENS!” her voice rose to a roar. “In the name of your own safety, your continued _survival_ , I am banishing you from Orlais. Until such time as it can be proved you will not be unwilling pawns of our foe, you must remove to your fortress at Weisshaupt.”

Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, but Higgins had no doubt it was heard in every inch of the courtyard. “I would like to never see another Warden die by my hand.”

With a whirl, she sheathed both daggers and then hopped down to cross the courtyard to where Cassandra and Cullen were standing, passing within arm’s reach of Higgins. Higgins impulsively stuck out his fist, closed, and after a second’s hesitation, the Inquisitor reached out and tapped his knuckles with her own. For an instant, their gazes met and she let him see how she truly felt. Her eyes were brimming with terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posted in the middle of the night when I finally got home from vacation because NCGrimm made me feel super loved. <3


	40. Adamant's Survivors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you thought *nobody* died at Adamant.

They were shocked, shocked to their bones, but the Wardens agreed to leave. Their leadership was utterly decimated; even if they had wanted to stay, they needed to send to Weisshaupt for senior wardens to lead them. For an Order with so many secrets, a loss like this was crippling. They settled in to help with the long task of identifying and burning the dead.

Higgins joined in the sweep of the keep, putting down any remaining demons and searching for survivors. The dead were taken to the courtyard where the rift had opened, and laid upon the first of what was to be many pyres.

“It’s like the civil war,” Baudin said at Higgins’ elbow as they paused to pay their respects. “Every death was a loss to our side, either an ally or a soul who _should have been_ an ally. A damn waste.”

“It’s over now,” Higgins said. “The Wardens will leave Orlais.”

“And if the dragon is an arch demon? If a Blight is truly upon us?”

Higgins shrugged. “We’ve still got Blackwall. The King of Ferelden is a Warden, he could get here pretty fast. Him and his wife, anyway, and the Fereldan Wardens. Better the Orlesian wardens are able to come help than stay here and die or be controlled. But if Corypheus can control them, they might not be able to take on the archdemon regardless. Corypheus might still be our main target even in the midst of a full Blight.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” Baudin mused.

“Been burning a lot of Wardens,” Higgins said, jerking his thumb at the fire.

He was trudging up the stairs to the ramparts when Aillis was suddenly in his face. “Turn around. Go back,” she said.

“I’m a grown ass adult, Aillis, I can handle whatever it is.”

“Not your choice,” Aillis said, widening her stance and settling in to block Higgins’ view of the whatever it was behind her.

Higgins crossed his arms, willing to wait her out.

“You’ve got to move so we can get her through,” a choked voice called from behind Aillis, and she stepped aside with a sigh.

DeForest was coming down the stairs then, his arms full of what could only have been Jenson, her matted hair dragging on the ground and leaving a waving red line down the ancient stone steps.

She was clearly dead. Her injuries were… extensive did not even begin to cover it.

“Demons pulled her open, and then _raised her_ ,” DeForest said, his voice shaking. “Had to kill her three times before she stayed dead.”

Higgins waved DeForest closer, and then reached in to help the Orlesian carry what was left of the Lieutenant to the nearest pyre. “She have any effects?” Higgins asked before they laid her on the oiled logs.

DeForest shook his head. “After Haven…? She left everything back at Skyhold, so we wouldn’t have to remove it from her like… like you did Glennon.”

Higgins nodded. He had known the story would get around eventually – even if only the bit about the necklace, since he’d sent that home to Karl’s parents. “It was a considerate thing she did. Pessimistic as all get out, but definitely considerate.”

DeForest snorted a laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Right now, dealing with the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life, you’re making me laugh.”

“Blood magic,” Higgins said evenly. “The worse shit gets, the funnier I am.”

DeForest gave one last salute to Jenson before, shaking his head and chuckling darkly, he turned and started the long walk back up to the carnage on the ramparts.

Higgins tucked Jenson’s body against Meyer’s on the pyre, noticing Engle and Sanderson laid out nearby. He had no memory of the latter two falling. “You’ll have good company as you arrive at the Maker’s side,” he said gently to Jenson's mangled remains. “I’m the only one left, now, from that cell in the Fallow Mire. Nobody will ever believe that it was me the Inquisitor brought back to life without you to back me up, Lieut.”

Jenson had no answer. A few more bodies were brought – none that Higgins recognized, although with the state they were in that wasn’t much consolation – and Higgins stayed until the pyre was lit before following DeForest’s trail back to the ramparts.

 

*

 

There were fires all over Adamant’s walls and courtyards that night, pyres sending the souls of Wardens and Inquisition soldiers alike to stand at the Maker’s side. Higgins and DeForest were the last to come back, staying until every Grey Warden was identified, until every soldier was given their due.

It was nearing dawn when the two men stumbled into camp. Rylen was standing at Cullen’s elbow, both men having just woken from a painfully brief nap, thinking to begin mobilizing the army that day and begin the long trek back to Skyhold.

“You’re going to have to give them the day, Commander,” Rylen told him without glancing over, knowing Cullen was watching DeForest and Higgins stumble arm-in-arm and would have the same thought.

“I didn’t think anyone would rest in the shade of that keep,” Cullen answered absently. “I assumed they would want as much distance between them and it, as soon as possible. I certainly do. But you’re right, I believe. They should have the day. We’ll march this time tomorrow.”

“We should take care of promotions before we march, as well. If something happens on the road, you’re going to want there to be a definite chain of command.”

Cullen sighed. “You’re not going to like it.”

Rylen risked a quick glance at the Commander. He was smirking, ever so slightly. “You do _not_ get to resign, you abrasive assache.”

“Assache,” a voice interrupted, and the Inquisitor strode gracefully up to stand next to Rylen. “I like it. It’s got a sort of _ring_ to it. Assache.”

Cullen laughed in earnest, then, shaking his head. “Never did I expect to see the day _you_ learned another swear word.”

Evelyn joined in his laugh, a rich chuckle that surprised Rylen. “Have my missives not been much improved?”

Cullen gestured to Evelyn as Rylen looked to him in confusion. “This woman has the worst language I have ever seen. The missives she sent back from the field shocked five years off Lady Josephine’s life, I am sure of it.”

Rylen rocked back on his heels with a burst of surprised laughter. “If that is the case, we should become better acquainted, my lady Inquisitor.”

Trevelyan snorted. “Not if you’re going to be all formal and shite,” she said, sounding like nothing more than Sera.

"I assure you, Inquisitor, I can be as abrasive and unaffable as the Commander if it suits you."

"Ah, I see! A man after my own heart," she laughed, to which Rylen bowed with a flourish.

“Did I hear right?” she asked Cullen a moment later. “We’re to stay here a day, and head back tomorrow?”

Cullen nodded. “If that is alright with you, of course, Inquisitor.”

“You know what is right for your troops,” Trevelyan said with a dismissive gesture. “I just wanted to know if I had time to make some rounds, and now I know I do.”

“Anyone in particular you need to see?” Cullen asked. Rylen could sense a definite undertone to the question.

“Killeen,” the Inquisitor answered immediately. Cullen seemed to deflate minutely, and Rylen couldn’t help but grin. The man was _gone_.

“I heard the Lieutenant was uninjured yesterday,” Cullen asserted, obviously being careful with his words.

“Physically, yes. But she might finally be dealing with what happened to Brown, and I’m not about to let her backpedal.”

“Brown?” Rylen asked automatically.

“Brown and Killeen…” Trevelyan said meaningfully. “Nobody was supposed to know. But since you’re going to be stuck out here for the foreseeable future, no harm in telling you.” With an impish smirk, she made her way in the direction Higgins had just vanished.

Rylen spun on Cullen. “Stuck out here? You’re giving me Adamant?”

“We’re likely pulling Adamant down,” Cullen answered. “I’m giving you Griffon Wing. You’re essentially going to be responsible for the whole western half of the Inquisition, Captain.”

Before Rylen could pull his thoughts together to make a suitable reply, Cullen grinned at him boyishly. “I did say you weren’t going to like it, didn’t I?”

 

*

 

The Inquisitor was sitting at his fire when Higgins stumbled out of the tent he was sharing with Killeen near midday. Killeen was curled lightly on the ground beside her, and while they weren’t speaking, the Lieutenant was seeming to take some measure of comfort from the Herald's presence.

“Good morning, Nuggins,” Trevelyan said without glancing up.

Higgins snorted his welcome. “Anybody ever manage to sneak up on you?”

“Not stumbling around like _that_ they wouldn’t,” the Inquisitor answered with a smile.

“Long night,” he said by way of reply.

She looked up, then, tearing her eyes away from Killeen to give him a long, assessing gaze. “How are you holding up?”

“A damn sight better than the morning after Haven, I promise you that.”

That drew a smile from her. “Glad to hear it.”

They sat around for hours, speaking of absolutely nothing in particular. Eamon wandered over at some point, Aillis not far behind. They broke apart for dinner at what should have been third bell, and returned directly to the fire. The Herald’s presense was comforting, somehow; expected, even. She had chosen to face the Fade rather than be slain, fought through a literal nightmare to return to their side. She belonged with them, now. Whether the feeling held all the way back to Skyhold was a problem for another day. For now, she was a soldier.

“You collect songs,” Davis said as twilight made them crowd towards the fire, in what were easily his first words ever directed at the Inquisitor. “I heard you used to sing at the fire in Haven. Do you have any ‘Marcher songs?”

Trevelyan smiled at him. “Marchers don’t sing,” she answered teasingly.

“Bullshit,” Crews fired back, being from Ostwick himself.

She threw her head back and laughed, seemingly thrilled at being called on her falsehood. “Will you sing backup, then, Crews?”

He blushed a bit – at her knowing his name or maybe at being forced to sing – but readily agreed.

She seemed to think for a minute, drawing her knees up to her chest and clasping her hands around her shins. Finally, with a nod and a smile to Crews, she tipped her head back and sang.

_I was just the age of sixteen when I first went on the drive._

_After six months hard labor – at home I did arrive._

_I courted with a pretty girl. ‘Twas her caused me to roam._

_Now I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

Crews’ eyes widened with surprise at the first line, but he seemed to recover quickly. He slapped one wide hand against the side of his hip slowly, a drowsy heartbeat between her words. When she reached the chorus, he joined in, a bass to counter her sweet soprano.

_I’ll eat when I am hungry and I’ll drink when I am dry._

_Get drunk whenever I’m ready. Get sober by and by._

_And if this river don’t drown me – ‘tis down I mean to roam._

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

There were sporadic cheers and laughs through the refrain, and Higgins found himself staring at the Inquisitor with a disbelieving smile on his face. She was giving so much of herself to them tonight; it wasn’t something he expected to see, not in front of so many, not when she'd been through so much.

_I’ll build a lonesome castle upon some mountain high,_

_Where she can sit and view me as I go passing by_

_Where she can sit and view me as I go marchin’ on;_

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

_I’ll eat when I am hungry and I’ll drink when I am dry._

_Get drunk whenever I’m ready. Get sober by and by._

_And if this river don’t drown me – ‘tis down I mean to roam._

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

Half the men around the fire joined in on the chorus, and the Inquisitor fought to keep the tune through her own laughter. Higgins was never so glad to be sitting across the fire from her, so he could watch the emotions play on her face. She had never seemed more human, even knowing she had stepped out of the Fade, _again_ , only a day before.

_When I am old and feeble and in my sickness lie,_

_Just wrap me up in a blanket and lay me down to die._

_And get a little bluebird to sing for me alone._

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

_I’ll eat when I am hungry and I’ll drink when I am dry._

_Get drunk whenever I’m ready. Get sober by and by._

_And if this river don’t drown me – ‘tis down I mean to roam._

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

_For I’m a river driver and I’m far away from home._

“I get it, now,” Aillis said, suddenly at his side. He lifted an arm and let her settle against him. “I’d never seen it before, not like you had. But now? Now I get it.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

She gestured across the fire at the laughing face of the Inquisitor. “She makes it impossible not to believe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> River Driver, as performed by Great Big Sea: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ejo_CTT1nM


	41. A Family Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A diversion from canon, as Barris is promoted outside of Skyhold.  
> Things with Aillis get weird.  
> And then they get back to Skyhold and everything goes to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame Zombolouge for this one.

There was a ceremony at dawn. They were all drawn up, rank and file ready to march. Cullen stood on the back of a wagon at their head, the Inquisitor on the ground to one side, grinning happily to reassure them.

They had lost Jenson, and her second was raised into her place – DeForest coming forward to accept the mantle of Lieutenant.

“Dodged another arrow, Higgins,” Ringwold murmured from his place at Higgins’ right.

Higgins let a smile crack his face, but otherwise didn’t respond.

Rylen was being left behind – in Griffon Wing Keep – and Cullen had decided to alter the ranks of the Inquisition.

There on the field outside Adamant, as the Wardens were marching out to the north under the watchful eye of Captain Rylen and Leliana, Delrin Barris was promoted to Knight Commander of the templar order. Delrin immediately pledged his service – and that of his templars – to the Inquisition. Eamon was promoted to Knight Captain beneath him, a position that would report directly to Delrin and Cullen, and control the templars in Skyhold.

Higgins put his fingers to his mouth to blow a shrill whistle in the seconds after Eamon knelt at the Inquisitor’s feet, and the forces erupted into a cheer.

Cullen gave them their moment, but he had more to say, and waved them silent.

The Knight Captain of the Skyhold templars would have a counterpart in the regular forces, and Lieutenant Tamson was brought forward to assume the mantle of leadership from the smiling Herald.

“Why not you, Lieut?” Higgins whispered to Killeen, beside him.

She gave him a roguish wink. “Then they’d bump you up to Lieutenant. I couldn’t do that to you, Nuggins.”

As he laughed, Tamson’s command was assigned, not to his second, who had been slain in Adamant, but to a man from Killeen’s unit who had shown extraordinary valor on the field of battle: Ringwold.

“The fuck? Really?” Ringwold muttered as Higgins shoved him forward to meet the outstretched hand of the Inquisitor.

“Really,” she asserted softly, and Ringwold flushed red and dropped to one knee before her.

Nobody cheered louder than Higgins.

There were still two vacancies in the ranks of templars, as Eamon and Delrin needed Lieutenants.

A man from Jader by the name of Myles got the first slot – which seemed to be more than acceptable to Delrin’s company. Higgins didn’t know the man, but he cheered just as hard as anyone else.

The last slot went to Aillis.

Higgins broke formation to throw his hands over his head before remembering himself and snapping back to attention. Nobody missed the gesture, though, and Aillis’ promotion was met with as many cheers as laughs and whistles. She shot an annoyed-but-amused look at Higgins, and burst out laughing at whatever the Inquisitor said to her before returning to her place in formation.

They expected Cullen – or Trevelyan, she was _right there_ – to have more to say. Cullen just called them to order and started them on the march home.

It was nearly noon when she caught up to him: a quick _slap_ upside the back of his head. Higgins turned to look, and put out a hand to catch her, but Aillis was already disappearing down the row of marching soldiers.

“You deserved that,” Killeen told him.

Higgins grinned at her. “I probably did.”

The march home was faster than the march to Adamant. They had fewer supplies, for one. The injured were allowed to stay behind at Griffon Wing with part of the medical corps, so as not to slow down the army’s return to Skyhold. The sense of dread was gone from the soldiery; while they had more names to mourn and some shuffling in the ranks to settle, they also had an overwhelming sense of _victory_. They had met an army of _Wardens_ and won.

Higgins saw very little of Aillis once she was promoted, and the few conversations they did have pointed at their need to end their false relationship now that Aillis outranked him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not for the first time.

Higgins tried not to laugh. “It’s _fine_. Aillis, it wasn’t a real relationship. It was a front. You just stop telling people we’re together and nothing else has to change. You can still come sit with me at the fire if you want. Or not. It’s _fine_.”

“It’s just… so _weird_ ,” she admitted. “I’m not sure it was fake for me.”

She trotted off before he had a chance to reply, but a cold and sick feeling settled into his stomach.

Aillis’ promotion was quite possibly an enormous blessing in disguise.

The sick feeling came back with a vengeance when they returned to Skyhold.

The men who had been working at digging out Haven – and committing to fire the bodies of the soldiers lost there – had been drawn into Skyhold to help the Chargers with protecting the keep while the army was in the Western Approach. They’d brought their work with them: a veritable mountain of crates, diligently labeled with the location they had been taken from.

Killeen was tasked with matching the crates with their likely owners… or next of kin.

“It says C12, Nuggins,” she said softly as she handed Higgins the box.

It was heavy – their campsite has escaped relatively unscathed, it seemed, and their possessions were largely intact.

“Take this one too, if you will,” Killeen continued, her voice barely a whisper. The box said C36. “Stick it in my tent, so I can make sure nothing in it is mine before I ship it off to Gwaren.”

His arms full of memories of Glennon and Brown, Higgins slogged wearily out to the encampment with the crates.

As he made his way back through the gates, a small caravan was just beginning to cross the causeway.

“Morty?” a woman’s voice called, stopping Higgins in his tracks. He searched the faces for the person who had spoken, and felt his heart skip when her eyes met his.

“Erika?” he breathed.

The woman – girl, in his memory; he hadn’t seen her in _years_ – threw herself into his arms.

“I’m… I’m on Watch, Erika. I have to go. Just… what are you _doing_ here?”

She laughed, a sound richer than he cared to acknowledge. “Go back to work! Find me when you’re done, and I’ll answer all of your questions.”

Higgins marched directly to Killeen, who was handing a box to a runner to deliver up to Harritt in the undercroft.

“Ser. Ser!” He called, desperate for her attention.

She waved the runner off. “ _What?_ ”

“Ser. We have a _problem_.”

Killeen gestured at the seemingly endless crates stacked around her. “You ain’t kidding.”

“No. _Ser_. Look. There!” Higgins pointed at the wagon just rolling into the keep from the causeway.

“What the void has gotten into you, Nuggins?”

“The girl – the _woman_ – walking along side, ser.”

“Old girlfriend?” Killeen laughed.

“Her name is Erika, ser. Erika _Glennon_.”

 

*

 

Killeen stared at the woman Higgins had indicated, her jaw dropping loosely.

“Ser, I-“

“You’re off Watch, soldier,” Killeen said sharply. “Go figure this shit out.”

Higgins swallowed back his complaint. Killeen was right – he was far too distracted to do any good on Watch.

With a quick salute, he made his way back over to the wagon, just as the driver was informing one of Mahvren’s men, “Fresh from Highever, ser. Supplies and recruits for the Inquisition.”

Higgins’ stomach dropped, impossibly, lower.

“Please tell me you’re just accompanying the wagon,” he said as he reached Erika’s side.

“Such a welcome, Morty!” she laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, Higgins saw a flurry of movement behind him. Killeen had easily fifteen men leaving her position at a dead run in all directions.

Higgins reminded himself he was _off watch_ and turned back to Glennon’s sister.

“Erika. Hello. I would say it is nice to see you, but we just got back from _a battle against Wardens_. It isn’t _safe_ here. We’re at war, for the love of-“

“I am fully aware of the state of the world, Mortho-“

“That is _not my name_ ,” Higgins hissed at her, her jaw snapping shut in surprise. “I am _Higgins_ here.”

Her jaw snapped shut and Higgins watched her fight her temper. Erika had always had the worst time controlling her tongue when she wasn't getting her way, and it was oddly comforting for Higgins to see she had not changed.

She drew herself up a little – three years younger than him, although you wouldn’t know it by looking at her – and prepared to dress him down. Higgins readied to cut her off when-

“Is there a problem here, Higgins?” a familiar voice interrupted. Killeen’s runners must have been sent to fetch the Herald, Higgins reflected gratefully. She had to have been close, to arrive so quickly.

“No, ser,” he answered without looking over. “Getting word from Highever, is all.”

“Not going to introduce me?” Erika asked, eyebrows flying high. “Such manners you’ve learned.”

A soft hand on Higgins’ arm drew him back a pace to settle at the Herald’s left side. “It is not his place to introduce me. Higgins understands his position here, which is what makes him so invaluable – to our organization in general as well as to me. I am Inquisitor Evelyn Trevelyan. What brings you to Skyhold?”

Erika’s jaw snapped shut again, this time with a _click_ as the color drained from her face. She stuttered for a moment before swallowing thickly and starting again. “Forgive me, my lady. I… did not expect to meet you.”

Trevelyan gestured at the stone walls around them. “You might not be aware, but I _live here_. Again, I ask, what brings you to Skyhold?”

Erika swallowed again, and looked to Higgins for help. With a sigh, he turned to the Inquisitor. “This is Erika _Glennon_ , your Worship. Her brother-“

“Karl,” the Inquisitor said sadly. “Your brother was a good man, Erika.”

If possible, Erika went more pale. “Thank you, your- your Worship.”

“Karl Glennon was irreplaceable,” the Inquisitor continued. “I trust it was not your intention…?”

Erika shook her head, violently. “No, no, my lady. I am no soldier. But I believe in what Mort-“

“ _Higgins_ ,” Trevelyan corrected her gently.

“Higgins,” Erika agreed weakly. “I believe in what _Higgins_ is doing here, and… I’m here to help.”

The Inquisitor turned to Higgins, closing one eye so subtley Higgins wasn’t quite sure he’d actually seen her _wink_ at him. “I trust you will handle this matter, Higgins? You have a better grasp on the minutiae of running the Keep than I do.”

“Absolutely, Inquisitor,” Higgins replied, snapping a hand to his breast.

“Miss Glennon,” Trevelyan said with a nod as she turned and walked away. A few paces later, she raised her voice to call for Cole to come down from the top of the crates and then was whisked into the hustle of the courtyard and disappeared.

“You… you weren’t joking,” Erika gasped.

“Of course I wasn’t joking. And this is a _war_ , not a holiday. Void take you, what do you think you’re doing here?”

“Bringing our fathers’ harvest to sell to the Inquisition,” Erika answered, a bit of heat returning to her voice. “Bringing it myself to make sure not one red cent went missing. Putting eyes on you so maybe my mother will start to sleep at night. And attempting to dedicate myself to the same cause you did, because _just maybe_ I’m a grown ass adult who can make her own decisions.”

“We can’t take in just everybody, Erika,” Higgins said softly, working to keep the anger out of his voice. “What do you propose to do, to earn your keep?”

“Brew,” she said easily. “Cook. Bake. Clean. I was the best of all of us with numbers, you have to know. I can help.”

Higgins took a deep breath to steady himself. “Any other surprises?”

“Well, your brother Tomas is here…”

“ _What?_ ”

Erika's head tipped back as she laughed at his discomfiture. “I kid! I kid! It’s just me. Papa took on one of the Mullins kids as a farmhand when Kylie got married last summer, and he came with me to take back news and Papa’s profits. The men at arms are interested in signing on – they hadn’t wanted to until we were within sight of the keep, and then all of a sudden…”

Higgins nodded, smiling in spite of himself. “I know the feeling. The Commander is a man worth serving under.”

Erika met his smile. “Please… _Higgins_. Let me stay.”

Higgins palmed his face. “Fine. _Fine_. But I’m going to have that Mullins kid escorted back to Highever. I never liked those assholes. Which one is it? Lem?”

“Lem? Ha! No. It was Dillan. Lem couldn’t be peeled away from Megga, now that the baby’s coming.”

“My sister married a _Mullins_?”

Erika laughed, wrapping her hands around his arm. “We have _so much_ catching up to do.”

“Business first,” Higgins said, drawing her towards the main keep. “I’m handing you over to Aieyla and getting an escort lined up for their return to Highever.”

“Who’s Aieyla?”

Higgins grinned. “The lady in charge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So," my husband said, after I'd explained my story to him. "You're writing just to fuck with one specific reader?"  
> "Yup," I reply.  
> <3 Zombolouge <3
> 
> If anyone is interested in harassing me like I harass @zombolouge, feel free to come find me on twitter @themarydragon


	42. Nuggins' Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The consensus is that everybody loves Higgins.  
> If only that was the case.  
> (Hello, Commander)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don't know how to cut this one down any more. Sorry it's huge.
> 
> We're up to Chapter 15 of 'Of Fear and Lyrium', if you're following along.

Erika was introduced to several dozen people while en route to Aieyla’s office. Aieyla was out when they arrived, but Mahvrin promised his wife would return shortly and had Erika settle in to wait for her. Higgins turned on his heel and made his way up to the ravencote.

“I know you have more important things to deal with, ser,” he said as soon as Leliana acknowledged him. “But I have a problem.”

The Nightingale’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“The caravan that just arrived this afternoon... the one from Highever?”

“Ooh, this is delicious,” Leliana cooed, leaning forward in her seat. “Who was on it? Shall I guess?”

“Glennon’s sister, Erika,” Higgins answered, fighting to keep the dejection out of his voice. “She intends to join the Inquisition.”

Leliana shrugged. “You could run her off if you really wanted to. So what’s the real problem?”

“She brought my father’s entire harvest with her to sell to the Inquisition.”

“Wise,” Leliana approved. “We’re paying more than anyone else right now.”

“And Glennon’s father’s, as well.”

“Genius.”

“If she doesn’t take it back, their profits for the entire year are going to be handed to an utter ingrate.”

Leliana tipped her head back and laughed. “And you want me to make sure your families aren’t ruined.”

“Yes, ser.”

“And since 90 coppers of every silver you make gets sent to Highever, it is clearly worth quite a lot to you.”

“Yes, ser.”

Leliana rubbed her hands together. “Consider it done. Your father will make the deal of a lifetime.”

“Thank you, ser.”

Leliana turned her head back to her desk, singing lightly to herself.

Confused, Higgins waited a moment before venturing, “Ser?”

“Yes?”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t currently need anything from you, Higgins,” the Nightingale assured him. “When I do, I’ll be sure to bring it to your attention. In the meantime, you can owe me a favor.”

The cold feeling settled in Higgins’ stomach again. “Yes, ser,” he whispered, and made his way back down the stairs.

“You _so_ owe me,” he told Erika as he dropped into the empty chair across the broad desk from where Aieyla now sat.

“What did you do?” Aieyla asked, not looking up from the paperwork before her.

“I asked the Nightingale to make sure our fathers’ profits make it back to Highever intact.”

Mahvrin sucked in a breath while Erika cocked her head to the side, confused. “The Nightingale?”

“Sister Leliana, the Left Hand of the Divine.”

Erika went white, for the second time that day. “You can do that? And she agreed?”

Higgins shrugged. “I owe her a favor now.”

“You owe the _Left Hand of the Divine_ a _favor_?” Erika asked, her voice rising an octave.

Higgins shrugged again. “Da will get his money. So will Da Glennon. And you can stay. The first two were worth it, at least.”

“Who…” Erika started, swallowed, tried again. “Who _are you_ now, that you can ask Sister Leliana a favor?”

“He is Higgins,” Aieyla said, handing Erika a packet of papers before rising up from behind her desk. “And you would do well to remember that _you_ owe _him_ a favor now, too. Come, child.”

“Where are we going?”

“To find you a place worthy of your brother’s memory,” Aieyla said shortly, and led her from the room.

“Do you want her here?” Mahvrin asked when the women were gone.

Higgins sighed. “Honestly? No. We’re at war. Skyhold isn’t as vulnerable as Haven… but underestimating Corypheus isn’t wise.”

Mahvrin nodded. “We can send her home. You wouldn’t be implicated.”

Higgins smiled up at the elf. “Thank you. But no… she made a good point. She’s an adult now. She’s as capable of making her own decisions as I was when I left home to go a’soldiering with her brother. I’m in no place to take that from her.”

Mahvrin reached across his desk to shake Higgins’ hand. “You’re a good man, Higgins. We’ll keep her safe.”

Higgins smiled. “Keep her calling me _Higgins_ and I’ll be happy.”

Mahvrin grinned. “That, I can do.”

 

*

 

Erika ended up in the brew house behind the Herald’s Rest. Growing up in fields of grain made her a good judge of quality, but Mahvrin didn’t need her help assessing crops for sale. What they needed was a brewmaster… and if there was one thing the Glennons knew, it was beer.

“Glennon never struck me as much of a drinker,” Maryden said after Higgins made the introduction the next afternoon.

“Snobby twat,” Higgins replied fondly. “Never drank to be drunk, and always had these shitty things to say about whatever we were drinking. Like, the hops had been added wrong, and it was missing the _orange and coriander_ tones that a proper brew would have.”

Maryden tipped her head back with a happy laugh. “He did not!”

“He did! He honestly did. I think his journal was in the crate Killeen gave me, I’ll have to find it for you.”

Maryden sobered, then. “I don’t think I want to see it.”

“I’d vet it for you first, Maryden,” Higgins said with a sad smile. “Not that he would have had anything bad to say about you.”

“It is the good that would break my heart,” Maryden confessed. Higgins drew her into his arms for a long hug.

“Moved on from Aillis, have you?” Sera’s voice called down from the stairs.

“Who’s Aillis?” Erika asked from the bar, where’d she come to try to pull information out of Cabot.

Looking between the two of them, Maryden still tucked against his side, something swirled to life in Higgins’ memory.

“Sera,” he said slowly. “I find myself suddenly in need of a Friend.”

Sera’s eyes brightened, and she darted down the stairs to grasp Higgins’ wrist and drag him up to her room on the second floor. She kicked the door shut as she released her grip on him, flew to the window, and flung herself onto the roof, gesturing wildly for him to join her.

“On the roof? Really?”

“Wot of it?” Sera scoffed. “Can’t nobody hear me out here, not ‘less I want ‘em to.”

“Why do you need a place nobody can hear you?” Higgins asked as he carefully stepped through the open window.

“Bring Ev out here, ‘right? ‘S’good to have a spot where we can say what we like without worryin’ none about who might get their panties inna bunch ‘bout it.”

“Fair enough,” Higgins conceded.

“So wotcha need?”

“Aillis,” Higgins said immediately. “You know about me & her?”

“I know yer a right liar,” Sera said with a snort. “Looked us right in the eye, right here in the ‘Rest! Said you ain’t never been interested in gettin’ yer knob polished.”

“Well, first, those were not my words. But, second, I didn’t lie. Aillis asked me to agree to _pretend_ to be with her. I guess she’s interested in somebody else entirely, but that person is in love with… someone else? I don’t know. I don’t _want_ to know. But you… you could help Aillis, right? She deserves love.”

Sera seemed to melt into herself. “You want me. To help _Aillis_. Find love?”

Higgins shrugged. “If you can, sure. If you can’t… forget I asked.”

Sera fixed him with a broad grin. “What are Friends for?”

 

*

 

It was late that evening before Higgins finally had a chance to sit down in the privacy of his tent and open the sealed crate marked C12. Within moments of him settling onto his cot and prying the lid off, a tentative scratching at the flap of his tent drew his eyes up. Killeen would never scratch, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else coming to his tent.

“I’m here,” he offered noncommittally.

“It’s DeForest,” a muffled voice with an Orlesian accent answered.

“Come in, then,” Higgins called.

The flap gaped open long enough for the new Lieutenant to slip through.

“I don’t mean to bother you – everyone’s busy with those damn crates today. I’ve got two to sort through, now that Jenson’s gone. But this was in Jenson’s personal affects, in a box labeled ‘Just in Case.’ It’s addressed to you.”

Higgins didn’t attempt to hide his surprise. “Addressed to me? You sure?”

DeForest handed him the sealed letter. “There any other Higgins?”

Higgins snorted. “Not here, thank the Maker.”

“There you are, then. Made sure nobody else read it. Hope it’s not bad news,” and DeForest slid back out into the snow.

The letter was relatively recent; she’d probably written right before they’d all left for Adamant. Higgins barely saw Jenson, so he couldn’t imagine what she might need to write to him about.

 

_Higgins,_

_If you’re reading this, you survived Adamant and I did not._

_That feels like such a lame way to start this, but I think you should know that I don’t expect to survive. I’ve got a horrible feeling in my gut, and while I hope I’m wrong… well. If you’re reading this, I’m not._

_I met you in the Hinterlands, at that damn camp that Trevelyan drew all the bears to. I didn’t_ see _you until we were in that damp cell in the Fallow Mire, and you were dying right in front of my eyes. We never told you about it, but you talked while you were unconscious, in between coughs. You didn’t talk about old girlfriends, or your Ma, or anything I expected to hear from a dying man. You prayed: to Andraste, to the Maker, and to the Herald. And you didn’t pray for yourself, but for the three of us with you to escape and for Glennon to remember you well._

_I’m writing to tell you that, so you understand this: I fell in love with you then._

_I transferred to Brown’s unit when we got back to Haven, because I admired you and Glennon, and I wanted to be closer to you. I never got a chance to say anything, or maybe I missed my chances. When Haven was lost I saw you carry Roderick out and I looked for you in the camp, but when I found you, you had Killeen in your arms. People spoke of you and Killeen as much as they did the Commander and the Inquisitor, so I kept my mouth shut._

_But today I saw you sitting at your fire with Aillis in your lap, and I realize I’ve been a fool. Killeen is your Lieutenant, your friend, and instead of Aillis it could have been me._

_So, I’m sorry. I had to write this so I didn’t go to my death with this secret. If you’re reading this, know I died proud and without regrets. You are a great man, Higgins. You belong in the Inquisition, you belong at the left hand of giants. I ask only that you remember me as well as you desired Glennon to remember you._

_Alicia Jenson_

 

Higgins read the letter over and over, shock and regret mingling to sicken his stomach.

The army thought he and _Killeen_ …

And all that time, Jenson…

A sudden suspicion brought him off his cot in a hurry. He paused only long enough to tap the lid of the C12 crate back into place before darting out of his tent.

He hadn’t spent much time in the templar parts of the encampment, venturing there only if his duties sent him. His short-lived "relationship" with Aillis had always taken place on Killeen's side of the encampment. He knew where Eamon had been camped, so by association he could guess at where Aillis would be. To save face, he made for Eamon’s tent.

“In,” the soft command sounded quickly in response to Higgins’ scratching at the tent flap.

“Higgins,” Eamon greeted him, quickly standing. There was a tiny desk crammed into the far corner, and Eamon was writing what looked like a letter home, although Higgins knew it was likely a letter of condolence to a lost templar’s family.

“Knight-Captain,” Higgins replied, taking the proffered hand. “My apologies, ser, but I’m actually looking for Aillis. I figured you would know where she was.”

Eamon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I expected you would know where she was better than I.”

“Despite what may seem to be common knowledge, ser, I have never entertained thoughts of a relationship with a superior officer,” Higgins answered carefully.

Eamon laughed. “First, I’m not _ser_ to you, at least not when we’re off duty. Second, I was in the ‘Rest the night Lace Harding compared you to her sister. I know better. Third, I've known Aillis for twenty years, and I know you're not really her type. For the record, it was a brilliant scheme.”

Higgins shook his head with a smile. “Thanks, Eamon.” He gestured to indicate the letter in his hand. “I’ve got something that I really need to ask her about, though. Is she around?”

“She just got issued her own tent, convenient since her roommate didn’t make it out of Adamant. She’s the only other single tent on this row – maybe five or six flaps down.”

“Thanks,” Higgins said, and immediately ducked back out into the night.

There was a soft glow visible under her tent flap, and he scratched lightly on the heavy canvas.

Rather than call for him to enter, Aillis cracked open the tent flap to see who was there. “Oh!” she breathed, surprised. “Come in.”

Higgins ducked under the flap, suddenly awkward in her presense.

Aillis handed him the stool that had been tucked under the tiny desk in the back of her tent – Higgins wondered if he would get a little writing desk if he ever actually agreed to be promoted – and sat gracefully on her cot. He sat the stool down in front of him but ignored it, preferring to stand.

“I got a letter from Jenson,” Higgins said, deciding to just get it out rather than attempting small talk. “I’m sure you can guess my question if you read it.”

She reached up and took the letter from his hands, and he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders while waiting for her perusal.

Aillis sighed as she reached the end. “Will you be mad if I admit to it?” 

“No,” Higgins reassured her as she handed the letter back. “Just need to hear it from you.”

“I _did_  ask you to fake a relationship with me for the reason I said at the time… because there _is_ someone I’m interested in, and she hasn’t ever looked twice at me. But I _also_ asked you because I remember what you said in the ‘Rest that night with Harding, and I didn’t have any other way of making people _shut up_ about you and Killeen.”

Higgins sat down heavily on the stool. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Aillis shrugged. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ever hear what was being said about you, about Killeen. I figured, if it bugged you to hear what people were saying about Cullen & Trevelyan, you'd come unglued if you heard that aimed at Killeen, while she was dealing with Brown's death. I wanted to save you from it. And if Jenson hadn’t…” she sighed again. “I thought I’d been successful. Killeen made an ass of herself that first day on the road, but I managed to shut her up before she did too much damage. And the talking stopped. And then I got promoted – which I will also admit, I knew was coming – and we had a nice and easy excuse for cutting things off.”

“You said…” Higgins started, had to stop and steady himself before trying again. “You said you weren’t sure if it was fake for you.”

Aillis smiled at him gently. “You’re very easy to love, Morty.”

Higgins stared at her for a minute before reaching up with both hands to rub roughly at his face. “Maker’s breath, this has been the most fucked up day…”

“I’m sorry,” Aillis offered immediately. “I feel like I went into it with the best possible intentions. And if I maybe got too entangled, then I should have kept that bit to myself. You’re a good man, Higgins. Jenson had the right of it.”

“I need to go,” Higgins said, standing up abruptly. “You’re… more complicated than I thought, Aillis. You’re going to be a great officer. But I need to go. Just… go.”

He didn’t wait for her response, but strode out of the tent and made his way back to his own abode in Killeen’s part of the encampment.

She was waiting for him.

“I need to talk,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m sorry, I know you’ve got your hands full…”

Higgins resisted the urge to palm his face. “Yeah, sure, Killer. Can we walk up to the ‘Rest? I can’t really face either of those crates right now.”

Killeen looked like she wanted to argue, but at the mention of the crates quickly agreed.

They fell into step automatically, although settling into a slower pace than they usually traveled.

“C12 crate that bad?” Killeen asked after they found their stride.

“Haven’t gotten a chance yet. Between Glennon’s sister and this fucking letter from Jenson…”

Killeen didn’t attempt to feign surprise. “It was always sad, watching her watch you. I couldn’t figure out how to tell her you wouldn’t ever look back. I didn’t think she’d ever tell you, honestly.”

“Well, she didn’t. She waited until she was fucking _dead_. If she could have just been upfront with me, I could have explained… And maybe then she wouldn’t have died thinking she missed her chance.”

Killeen flinched. “Is that what the letter said?”

“She tried to put it in a better light than that, but yeah. More or less.”

“Seeing you and Aillis must not have helped her much.”

“Since she started that whole act just to keep people from talking about _you and me_ , I can’t really fault Aillis for this.”

Killeen missed a step. “You’re not serious.”

“I wouldn’t have put any faith in it if I hadn’t seen _your_ reaction to her in my lap, that night on the road.”

Killeen’s sudden silence was are the confirmation Higgins needed.

“What the fuck, Lieut. Were you going to wait until you were dead, too? Leave me some fucked up letter to find?”

“No,” she replied, angry. “I was going to keep my fucking teeth together because I actually _respect_ you.”

“Void take you, Killeen, you don’t want me.”

“You don’t-“

“Shut up. You don’t want _me_. You never got over _him_.”

Killeen’s teeth clicked together as she made a sound disturbingly similar to a snarl.

“You put everyone’s name on that damn list for Solas except your own. Fat lot of good that did you. When you lost it in Adamant, you thought I was Brownie, don’t bother lying about it. I can’t keep reminding you, _I am not him_. I don't _want_ to be him. I don't want his command, and I sure as shit don't want his woman. She's my  _friend_. That has to be enough.”

He waited for Killeen’s inevitable retort. Kept waiting. After a few seconds he glanced over and saw the tears streaming down her face.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said, stopping to draw her against his chest. She resisted for the space of three heartbeats before collapsing with a sob. Higgins leaned over to scoop her up and carried her the rest of the way into the keep. He tilted her face so her tears weren’t visible, and answered the challenge from the gate guard with the assertion that he was taking Killer to see a healer.

“Maniac got injured and never told,” he said as they waved him through. “Gotta get her to Solas - she hates the damn surgeons.”

He stopped in Solas’ solar, halfway expecting an argument.

“I see Lieutenant Killeen has finally succumbed to her injuries at Haven,” the elf said evenly.

“Can I leave her here and run up to fetch Dorian?” Higgins asked.

Solas nodded, gesturing to the couch Higgins himself had laid upon the night they’d cured him of the worst of his nightmares.

He laid Killeen down and hesitated long enough to tell her, “I’m going to fetch Dorian, alright? Just don’t move.”

She nodded, once, and turned her head towards the wall.

Higgins took the stairs three at a time.

“Thank the Maker you’re here,” he told the Tevinter as he cleared the top of the stairs. “I need you.”

Dorian sat up eagerly. “Am I dreaming?”

Higgins paused, thinking through the exchange before rolling his eyes. “Andraste’s ass, Dorian, not like _that_.”

Dorian scoffed and leaned back into his chair.

“It’s Killeen. You were right – she lost it at Adamant. I gave her the potion, kept her safe. Well, Ringwold kept her safe. We fought, just now, and I finally broke her, I think. She’s downstairs with Solas.”

“You had my undivided attention the moment you said I was right,” Dorian informed him as he rose and gracefully descended the stairs.

Higgins followed him back to Solas’ haunt on the first floor.

“Darling girl,” Dorian murmured into Killeen’s ear. “Am I sending Nuggins away?”

Killeen nodded again, and Higgins immediately turned on his heel. He remembered not wanting to tell Killeen about his memories of Glennon... he owed her the same courtesy.

Varric was sitting with his feet on the table in the main hall when Higgins emerged from Solas’ antechamber.

“Please tell me you’ve got something to drink,” Higgins said, dropping into the seat beside the dwarf.

Varric pushed an already-filled tankard across the table to him. “I figured _somebody_ would need this tonight. Didn’t figure it was you.”

“Thanks for saving me the seat, then.”

“Need to talk about it?”

“I need substantially less things in my life that are _worth_ talking about,” Higgins replied.

Varric grunted. “Women?”

Higgins nodded.

“Killer?”

“And Aillis. And _Jenson_. And _Erika_.”

“Wait, who’s Erika?”

“Erika Glennon.”

Varric whistled thinly. “Not to add trouble, but Knuckles is judging those three chucklefucks tomorrow. What’re their names… Snyder and a couple others.”

“Oh, _fantastic_ ,” Higgins groaned. “So everyone can be reminded of Snyder’s delusion about me and the Inquisitor.” Higgins let his head drop to the table with a dull _thud_.

“Oh, I don’t know,” an amused voice that was definitely _not Varric’s_ chimed in. “…I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a _delusion_.”

“For fuck’s sake, Knuckles, not now,” Higgins said, not looking up from the table.

Another voice, _still not Varric_ , and this one _exceptionally_ annoyed, barked “Higgins!"

Higgins snapped his head up to look at the Commander. And the Inquisitor. And Ambassador Montilyet.  _And the Spymaster_ .

“Leave him be, Cullen,” the Herald said softly. “The poor man got shit on today.”

Cullen seemed to inflate slightly. Higgins sighed. “I’m sorry for the cheek, ser, but could you please yell at me _tomorrow_?”

Leliana snorted a laugh and quickly excused herself, drawing Josephine along with her.

Trevelyan dropped into the chair across from Higgins, gesturing for Cullen to sit with them. Cullen declined, “I have a meeting with my officers starting soon, I must not be late.”

“Killeen’s not coming,” Higgins offered, adding a belated “ser” at Cullen’s raised eyebrow.

“And she sent _you_ to tell me this, why?”

“She didn’t, ser. I finally got her to admit she’s been broken since Haven. She’s in with Dorian and Solas now.”

Cullen’s face softened. “I see. Thank you, Higgins.”

“My pleasure, ser.”

Cullen nodded to Trevelyan and Varric and then took the long way to his office, avoiding Solas’ solar entirely.

“He’s going to shit all over you if you keep up that lip,” Varric offered, topping off Higgins’ tankard and sliding a flask across the table to the Inquisitor. Trevelyan worked the stopper off and sniffed, eyes lighting up at what she found within and eagerly taking a pull from the flask.

“I know, I know,” Higgins grumbled. “And he’s my Commander and I should care, but…”

“What happened today?” Trevelyan asked.

Higgins sighed.

The Inquisitor slapped her palms on the table. “Alright. We can fix this.” She pushed up out of the chair – taking the flask with her – and strode into Solas’ antechamber.

A few minutes later, she returned with Dorian at her heels. “Higgins. Get Up,” the Inquisitor directed, motioning for him to stand.

Higgins pushed to his feet.

“With me, soldier,” she said, and turned on her heel to cross the main hall towards the throne. Higgins followed blindly, dully noting Dorian and Varric close behind him.

The Inquisitor reached the door to leading to Aieyla’s office – and past that up four long flights of stairs to her apartment. She swung the door open and motioned for them to go through. Higgins hesitated – and was immediately pushed through the doorway by Varric.

They plodded up the stairs to the top, Evelyn staying behind to collect Aieyla before hurrying to catch up. The five of them trooped into Evelyn’s rooms, and were directed to the chaise and the thick rug by the fire.

Aieyla and Evelyn ducked into a side room and came out with five heavy wine glasses and a large decanter of a fruity red.

“Never been much of a wine drinker,” Higgins admitted as they passed him a glass.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Evelyn replied. “Now start talking.”

It took nearly two hours for Higgins to plow through everything that had happened, once back stories and explanations were provided. Killeen's relationship with Brown raised Varric’s eyebrow – “how am I the only one to not have heard about this?” – and Aillis’ proposal shocked Aieyla.

“That was wrong of her,” the elf said, outraged on Higgins’ behalf. “Taking advantage of your friendship like that….”

The explanation of Aillis’ true motives did much to mollify Aieyla, but by the end of the recounting, Evelyn was near tears.

“I’m going to end up throwing those three louts off that balcony tomorrow,” she said, pointing angrily at the glass doors on two sides of her room.

“That’s not going to help me, Ev,” Higgins sighed.

“And you’ve been with Sera recently, as well,” Dorian said, picking up on the diminutive.

“She said something once about being friends, although he way she said it… _friends_ meant something different to her. I told her something about you once, Knuckles – I forget what it was, I’m sorry – and Sera said someday I’d need something from her, and then we’d be Friends, a favor-for-a-favor kind of thing. So I asked her to figure out who it was Aillis was mooning over. The last thing I want for Aillis is for her to write a letter to someone like Jenson did to me.”

“Friends _definitely_ means something different to Sera than it does the rest of us,” Evelyn said with a smile. “But she might have been the perfect person to send on that errand. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was Sera that Aillis had her eye on.”

Higgins jerked his head up. “No. Aillis said the person she was in love with never looked at her twice, because whoever _she_ is, she’s got her eye on somebody else.”

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably before nodding. Higgins’ jaw dropped.

“She’s a dreadful flirt,” Aieyla said dryly.

“About scared the Commander off,” Varric added. “Had to tell him myself that he was the one she actually _meant_ it with.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Dorian said, one hand fluttering up to wipe away a – nonexistent – tear of pride.

Higgins snorted.

“I may have gotten carried away in my flirting with _everybody in the Inquisition_ ,” Evelyn admitted. “It’s been so hard, trying to find the line… I’ve never had so many people actually _give a fuck_ about me before.”

Aieyla immediately reached out to draw Evelyn into a hug. Higgins smiled at the display of affection.

“You’re loved, Evelyn,” Aieyla said into the Inquisitor’s hair. “Just like I promised you would be.”

“So what do I do?” Higgins asked a few minutes later, after Evelyn eased up out of Aieyla’s embrace.

“Well, I could make you the same offer Aillis did,” Dorian said with a waggle of his eyebrows, drawing a laugh from the room.

“And for the same reason,” Evelyn told Higgins in an audible whisper.

Dorian blushed.

“You and the Bull still dancing around the subject?” Varric asked.

“You and _Bull_?” Aieyla gasped. “Really? That’s so sweet!”

“Sweet?” Higgins, Evelyn, and Varric all exclaimed at the same time, starting another round of laughter.

“I’m afraid rumors of myself and the qunari barbarian are greatly exaggerated,” Dorian said archly.

They let the subject drop, more out of respect of Dorian than any discomfort with the idea.

“Again,” Higgins said, sprawl out on the rug. “What do I _do_?”

“You start by forgiving me,” Killeen said from the door, causing everyone else to straighten up, startled.

“Done,” Higgins replied immediately.

Killeen coughed a weak laugh, moving across the room to drop heavily onto the chaise beside Dorian.

“What’s the verdict?” the Tevinter asked.

“Demon,” Killeen verified. “Gave Solas a run for his money, but I’ve been cleared.”

“Maker’s furry ballsack,” Varric breathed. “You’ve been running around since _Haven_ with a demon chasing after you in your sleep?”

Killeen nodded weakly.

“You dumbass,” Evelyn reached across to slap Killeen’s foot, the only part of her the Inquisitor could reach. “Were you just _above_ needing help? Even after the dressing down you gave Nuggins there?”

“Shove off,” Higgins chided her, gesturing for Aieyla to pour Killeen something to drink. “She asked for forgiveness. Which sort of implies she’s accepted that she wasn’t doing the right thing.”

“Shove off yourself,” Evelyn replied, kicking Higgins in the shin. “She asked _you_ for forgiveness, not _me_.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you forgive me, Evelyn,” Killeen replied. “It was Higgins that’s been dealing with my shit for months.”

Evelyn grinned at her. “Fair enough. I don’t forgive you.”

“Nor I,” Dorian added. “Not yet, at least. You could have caused unspeakable damage with that demon in your head.”

Killeen waved off Higgins’ spluttered defense. “They’re right, Nuggins. I was proud and stupid. It’s not an insult if it’s the truth.”

“Here’s a hint,” Varric said, leaning towards Higgins. “If you don’t want people to think you’re tumbling your Lieutenant on the side, don’t rush to defend her when she’s _clearly wrong_.”

Evelyn and Aieyla laughed, then, and Higgins forced himself to concede Varric’s point.

“I… can’t go through Brown’s crate.” Killeen admitted. “Not on my own.”

“Bring it up,” Aieyla offered. “We’ll set it up in my bedroom where nobody can see us and we’ll sort it together.”

Killeen’s relieved smile was almost painful to see. “Bless you.”

“Can we please get back to my problem?” Higgins complained.

“It’s the same problem I have,” Evelyn told him with a dismissive flutter of her hand. “We are plainly too adorable. We must do something to make ourselves completely undesireable.”

“Easy for you,” Higgins snorted. “Go get naked with the Commander and _he’ll_ make you undesireable to everyone else.”

Evelyn blushed crimson as the rest of them roared with laughter.

“You know what?” Evelyn said, standing up to _literally_ rise to the challenge. “ _I think I will_.”

“For the love of the Maker, do it on a night we’ve got Second Watch the next day,” Killeen pleaded.

“What did you have today?” Evelyn asked.

“Second.”

“I’m not waiting five days, sorry,” Evelyn said, tipping her wine glass apologetically at Killeen. Dorian and Varric cheered.

“Look, Higgins,” Aieyla said once they’d calmed. “You’re upset. That’s to be expected. But it’s really not that terrible of a problem. Your best friend’s sister moved up to Skyhold and has a – perfectly safe – job at the tavern. Your Lieutenant needed help, and you got it for her. Another Lieutenant decided _you_ needed help, and so she helped you. And you had the extreme misfortune of a friend secretly falling in love with you. None of those problems are life threatening.”

“But the way you talked to the Inquisitor in front of the Commander definitely _is_ life-threatening,” Varric added.

Higgins sighed. “You’re right. You’re right. It was just… a lot for one day.”

“Go sleep it off, then,” Evelyn said with an understanding smile. “Get Killeen back to her tent and tomorrow will be better.”


	43. Facing the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today, children, we're going to learn about consequences.

The next day did not begin auspiciously.

“You told _Sera_ to check up on me? Sera.” Aillis was looming over him as he tried – vainly – to pretend he was sleeping far too deeply to be woken by her anger.

“I _will_ make a scene, Higgins,” she warned.

Higgins rolled over with a sigh. “It seemed like a solid plan! Help you like you’d tried to help me!”

“ _Sera_.”

“If you would have told me it was Sera you had the warm fuzzies for-“

“You _son of a bitch_.”

“The Inquisitor! The Inquisitor told me! Yesterday! I didn't know Sera was smitten with the Inquisitor, I never would have guessed it was her. I swear I didn’t know when I talked to Sera, Aillis, I _swear_.”

With a frustrated sound that was half-scream and half-growl, Aillis stormed out of his tent.

As he let his head drop back to his pillow, he could hear Killeen’s slightly-hysterical laughter from the next tent over.

“Seriously, Killer, _fuck you_ ,” he said, just loudly enough for her to hear.

Her laughter ratcheted up in volume, but it was soothing somehow. With a smirk, Higgins rolled over and went back to sleep.

He managed to sleep through the Inquisitor’s judgement of Snyder, Heftner, and Gibbs. Varric was eager to give him the news when Higgins stumbled up to the keep for lunch before taking Third Watch.

“It was pretty pathetic,” the dwarf admitted, chuckling happily as Higgins destroyed a bowl of stew in the main hall. “Ruffles read through the charges and the witness statements – which were _hilarious_ , the different voices describing how you shit-canned those three – and one of them fell straight onto his face, blubbering. The other two held up better, until Knuckles offered to throw them off her balcony.”

Higgins’ head snapped up. “She didn’t.”

“She definitely made the offer, but it was phrased so no one took her seriously. Well, nobody except the three being threatened. They essentially took dishonorable discharges and agreed to be immediately enlisted by the Ferelden military, to stay out of trouble in the future. Ruffles had a favor to trade with the Teryn of Highever – because of course she does – and they’re being stationed in Gwaren, I think.”

Higgins snorted. “Gwaren, eh? As far from Orlais as it’s possible to be, while still being in Ferelden?”

“More or less,” Varric agreed. “And they were out of the Keep before you woke up.”

Higgins smiled as he scraped the bottom of his soup bowl. “Well. That could have gone worse.”

 

 

*

 

Higgins’ shift that night, on the other hand, could have gone _much_ better.

“What is it you said to me yesterday?” Cullen asked as Higgins stood at attention next to one of the doors, waiting for the Commander to need a runner.

Higgins winced. “I believe I said, ‘I’m sorry for the cheek, ser, but could you please yell at me tomorrow.’ I assume you’re standing by that?”

“Would you like to be yelled at?” Cullen returned mildly. “I could. I would rather not, but I definitely _could_.”

Higgins shook his head. “No, ser.”

“I understand your relationship with the Inquisitor is different – unique, even. And I understand that it might even be fundamental to the functioning of the Inquisition as a whole. You make her approachable, give her a means to reach out to the soldiery, and remind all of us that the Inquisition is made of _people.”_ Cullen paused and shifted a bit in his chair to look at Higgins more directly. “However, I cannot sanction that familiarity happening when you are on shift, or otherwise in public. If you privately wish to speak so crudely to the Inquisitor, that is between you and her. It needs to not be done anywhere it could effect the Inquisitor’s image outside the Inquisition. For example, in the _main hall_ in front of countless diplomats and dignitaries.”

Higgins could only nod.

“Furthermore,” Cullen continued, “your relationship with the Inquisitor does not and _should not_ extend to the Ambassador, the Spymaster, or _myself_ , unless one of those entities requests such familiarity. As your Commanding officer, I _do not_.”

Higgins swallowed audibly. “Yes, ser.”

“If you are currently not on Watch, you are yet a soldier in the Inquisition and thus subordinate to Lieutenant Killeen, Captain Tamson, Captain Rylen, and myself. We allow a certain degree of informality in the Inquisition, but that should not be an invitation to take liberties with the chain of command and appropriate courtesy.”

“Yes, ser. You are absolutely right, ser. I’m sorry, ser.”

Cullen took a deep breath. “That said. What in the Void happened yesterday that rattled you badly enough to swear at the Inquisitor in the main hall?”

Higgins settled his stance a bit, trying to relax some of the tension from his shoulders. “A great deal of personal revelations, ser. Mostly regarding women.”

Cullen scoffed. “Since when are women a problem for you, Higgins?”

Higgins sighed. “Since one of them is Glennon’s little sister, another left me a letter admitting she loved me to be delivered when she died in Adamant, and a third was my Lieutenant fighting with me until finally cracking and allowing Solas to free her from the demon that’s been chasing her since Haven.”

Cullen blinked. “Killeen is confirmed, then, as being cleared of demonic influence?”

“She is now, ser.”

Cullen leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk and wearily rub his hands across his face. “I’ll have to meet with Solas, determine to what degree she may have been compromised. How does she seem to you?”

Higgins shrugged. “She was very good at hiding her troubles, ser. She seems much the same to me today as yesterday, if a bit… lighter, I suppose. She laughed at me getting ripped on by Aillis this morning, which is a step in the right direction.”

“You did something to cause Knight-Lieutenant Aillis to reprimand you?” Cullen pried.

“I… asked Sera to find out who Aillis was in love with. Aillis had asked me to fake a relationship with her-“

“Alright,” Cullen interrupted. “I can appreciate your reticence in answering my questions previously. If your conversations with the Inquisitor run along these lines, I thank you for keeping them from me. Maker, but the gossip in this army…”

Higgins chuckled. “I try to avoid spreading gossip, ser, but that just makes me a magnet for it. People bring everything to me.”

“I should send you to the Nightingale,” Cullen said lightly.

“She’s tried to recruit me in the past,” Higgins admitted.

“And you turned her down?” Cullen asked, surprised.

Higgins nodded. “I did, ser. I know I aggravate you to no end, but I knew I wanted to serve under you the first day I walked into Haven. This is the best-run company I’ve ever seen, and I’ve no desire to go elsewhere. And, besides… I’m no rogue.”

Cullen laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s not make a habit of this, then, shall we? I’ll make a model soldier of you yet.”

“Absolutely, ser.”

“I’ve got the officers coming in for our last meeting regarding Adamant an hour after Third Bell. You’ve avoided promotion up until this point, but it’s never too early to start you down that path. Come here, show me what you can do with these requisitions.”

Higgins bit back a sigh. He couldn’t be promoted without either another shuffling of the ranks or the loss of one of the current officers. Neither was a pleasant thought; but the Commander was offering him an olive branch, and Higgins would be an idiot not to take it. He dragged over the stool Cullen indicated and took the proffered report, determined not to let the Commander down again.

 

*

 

The next day started roughly the same as the one before.

“Wake up, Nuggins,” Aillis said, her voice painfully close to his ear.

“Why is this a thing?” Higgins complained.

“Look, yesterday… you were trying to help,” Aillis sighed, sitting on the side of his cot. Higgins cracked an eye open. Her face was deathly serious. “I don’t like lying to Sera, and that’s what I did. Lie. And then I took it out on you. The whole situation is fucked up, and it’s probably my fault. So, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary. But you’re forgiven regardless.”

“Thank you. But that’s not why I’m here this morning.”

Higgins took a steadying breath. “Alright. Why are you waking me up _again_ today? And why aren’t you asleep? Didn’t you have Fourth last night?”

“I did have Fourth. Which is why I’m here. I didn’t want you splattering anybody’s face today.”

“I am so confused.”

“The Inquisitor spent last night with the Commander. They weren’t obnoxious about it, but the facts are pretty inescapable. She walks into his office at the tail end of the officer’s meeting. He locks all the doors. She never comes out. Three different patrols heard… well. I’d spare you the details but that’s the whole point – _you’re going to hear about it today_. And I didn’t want you to get pissed and level somebody for gossiping about the Herald.”

Higgins sighed. “Fantastic. Thanks, Aillis.”

“You’re welcome. Keep your hands to yourself, soldier.”

“That an order?”

“Would you like to take orders from me?” Aillis asked, and Higgins snapped his head up at the flirtatious tone.

She laughed at his reaction, letting herself out of his tent.

Higgins listened for a moment – Killeen was snoring – and decided to go back to sleep. He had Fourth tonight – Aillis had taken over Eamon’s company, and still had the slot in the rotation directly after his – so he could sleep through the day and avoid most of the gossip.

Hypothetically, at least.

 

*

 

Higgins was rapidly approaching the end of his shift that night, making his last circle of the battlements. Just as he approached the Commander’s office – locked, _again_ , which was bloody inconvenient and forced him to circle around rather than cutting through – he heard a _thump_ beside him. Memories of Haven flashed through his mind and he threw himself away from the sound, coming up with sword drawn.

“Shit, sorry,” the Inquisitor said, reaching her hands out of the darkness. “I saw it was you and thought I would surprise you…”

“Well, you did,” Higgins said wryly and resheathed his weapon as quietly as possible. “Good evening, ser.”

“Good evening, Higgins,” she replied. “I’m just on my way out to-“

“You were just jumping off the roof of the Commander’s quarters,” Higgins interrupted. “His door has been locked for two hours. _We know_ , Knuckles. No stories necessary.”

She blushed crimson in the unsteady torchlight. “Does everybody…?”

“Yes,” Higgins replied bluntly. “Everybody.”

Trevelyan sighed. “He worries what you all will think of him.”

Higgins chuckled, a bit darkly. “I can’t tell you what anybody else thinks. But _I_ think it isn’t anybody’s damn business.”

She laughed, then, a happy sound in the darkness. With a couple quick steps she was at his side, threading her arm through his.

“An escort back to your tower, m’lady?” Higgins asked.

“Absolutely. Thank you, kind ser.”

 

*

 

There was almost no time wasted between cleaning up after Adamant and beginning to plan for Halamshiral.

Higgins was almost immediately disappointed.

“What the bloody fuck do you mean I’m not going?” he demanded when Killeen gave him the news.

“Is that the way Cullen wants you to speak to your commanding officer?” Killeen answered mildly.

Higgins slapped a hand to his forehead, roughly scrubbing it across his face. “No. Sorry. Ser. What the fuck do you mean I’m not going, _ser_.”

Killeen laughed. “Oh, close enough. Direct order from the Commander. You stay. He’s cherry picking the honor guard travelling with the Inquisitor and her inner circle. If you would like a formal explanation, you can take it up with him.”

Higgins struggled with the news throughout his Watch, finally deciding to ask Cullen about it when First Bell rang and he was off duty.

He waited in the Commander’s office while Cullen dealt with a string of reports and requests. “Question, ser, if I may?” he ventured after Cullen gestured for him to step forward.

“You’re not going to Halamshiral,” Cullen answered without glancing up from his desk.

“Yes, ser. Killeen told me. I was wondering why, ser.”

Cullen smiled, but didn’t lift his eyes. “You likely know the answer, Higgins.”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins said, gritting his teeth with the effort of keeping his tone appropriate for his Commander. “Still, I would like to hear it from you, ser, so I’m sure there’s no confusion.”

Cullen’s smile widened and he glanced up at Higgins, who was standing stiffly at attention.

“First, the Inquisitor is being presented to the Empress of Orlais at the Winter Palace. Your level of familiarity with her is the _last_ thing she needs when trying to impress the bloody Orlesians. Second, I am making an example of you for your recent indiscretions. If you would prefer a more formal punishment instead, I can easily arrange something.”

Higgins shook his head. He figured he was being punished, but having the Commander _admit it_ was a bit unnerving.

“Lastly, I am taking most of my officers with me. Captain Tamson and Knight-Captain Eamon will stay here to oversee the protection of Skyhold in our absence, with the Iron Bull and his Chargers reprising their role from the Adamant campaign. That said, neither Tamson nor Eamon have much – if any – rapport with Bull, and I need someone trustworthy here to act as liason. That someone is you.”

Higgins let his eyebrows rise but otherwise contained his surprise.

“You have repeatedly dodged promotion, but I swear I will have you in stripes by the end of this war if it kills me. At this rate, it very well might. I will expect a raven daily with updates, even if that update is that nothing at all happened since the last missive. Do you have any further questions?”

Higgins shook his head. “No, ser.”

“You are off duty, are you not?”

“I am, ser.”

“Very well then. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I will, ser. Thank you, ser.”

Higgins left the Commander’s office and marched straight to the practice field. DeForest and Myles were assigned to training that day; Higgins knew roughly half of the soldiers and almost none of the templars, but that didn’t stop him. He grabbed a training sword and shield and walked up to DeForest.

“Need you to assign me someone to beat on, Lieut,” he said without preamble.

“Not going to Halamshiral?” DeForest asked, gesturing for Higgins to follow him.

“That is correct, ser,” Higgins gritted.

“Cullen censure you for improper address of your officers?” DeForest laughed as he outfitted himself with training gear.

“That is also correct, ser.”

DeForest laughed again, and slapped his sword against his shield. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Nuggins.”

 

*

 

“You beat three Lieutenants within an inch of their lives,” Dorian chided as he handed Higgins a healing draught that evening. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but unless it was _I hate authority_ your point was not made.”

“I wasn’t trying to make a point,” Higgins said from where he sprawled on the floor of the library, the cool stone soothing to his aching muscles. “I was trying to work out my temper before I said something _else_ to get me in trouble with the Commander.”

Dorian grunted in response. “And did it work?”

“Yes, actually. And I’m almost certain DeForest will make a full recovery.”

“Once Solas is done with him, you mean. Why weren’t you using blunted weapons?”

“We were.”

Dorian rattled off something quickly in Tevene that sounded suspiciously blasphemous, as ‘Andraste’ was the only word Higgins could make out.

“So you whipped DeForest, then _both_ Knight-Lieutenants, and then… what? What stopped your reign of terror?”

“Krem,” Higgins answered, still short of breath. “Great fight, that. You should have seen it.”

“I see its results,” Dorian said, gesturing to Higgins’ form on the floor. “DeForest on a stretcher-“

“Only because his knee couldn’t hold weight, it wasn’t _that_ serious.”

“…Aillis with what Varric is calling _double blue eyes_   from a broken nose and Myles with a dislocated shoulder. And you a single continuous bruise.”

“I’ve got to get to Krem first next time, end with Myles,” Higgins replied. “I could have taken him if I wasn’t winded.”

“Insane.” Dorian said, shaking his head. “And why was Aillis even there? Wasn’t she on Watch?”

Higgins nodded, taking another swig of the elfroot potion before answering. “Somebody fetched her. I guess she thought we needed broken up. I told her I was just burning off steam, and she offered to beat the sense back into me.” Higgins shrugged. “I told her she was welcome to try.”

“And when did Krem show up?”

“Him and the rest of the Chargers got there about halfway through the spar with Aillis.”

“Spar? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“We’re at _war_ , Dorian,” Higgins chided. “Pulling your strikes will get you killed.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I sent for your sister.”

“My- _What?_ You mean Erika? Erika’s not my sister. Well, not my _blood_ sister. She’s a Glennon so I guess… Why are you calling Erika?”

“Because I’m fairly certain she’s the only person in Skyhold you won’t try to fight.”

“You’re wrong there,” the younger Glennon said as she entered Higgins’ line of sight. “Gave me my first fat lip, this one did.”

“That was an accident,” Higgins argued.

“Get up, Nuggins, you’re banished to the ‘Rest for the remainder of the day.”

“Is that wise?” Dorian asked her as he helped pulled Higgins off the floor. “A bar?”

“It is when Cabot and I have control over the liquor. Bull will sit on him if need be.”

“He can _try_ ,” Higgins said, as he and Erika trooped down the stairs and Dorian sighed loudly behind them.

“You’re pissed,” the Iron Bull said as Higgins settled himself at the mercenary’s table under Maryden’s watchful eye. “I get it. And you only fought people who offered to fight you. I respect that. _And_ you fought fair, which puts you above reproach in the Commander’s eyes. So what are you doing here?”

“Apparently, being babysat,” Higgins answered, looking miserably into his tankard of water.

Bull chuckled. “And there’s the problem. You want to be treated like you’re special, but you don’t want any of the responsibility for it.”

“I never asked to be treated special,” Higgins corrected him. “I was nice to the Inquisitor the day she woke up, and everything spiraled outward from there. I don’t _expect_ to be treated any differently than anybody else. It just keeps _happening_.”

The qunari cocked an eyebrow at him. “You don’t strike me as the type to play the victim.”

Higgins was caught off guard. “You think that’s what this is?”

“You don’t?”

Higgins shook his head. “I have a smart mouth, is my problem. And the Inquisitor spoils me, makes it too easy to blur the lines and forget myself. _She’s_ above reproach – she’s our bloody savior, if she wants me to walk on my hands for the rest of the day I’d do it or die trying. She walks up to me, says something flip, I give her some cheek back, not realizing the Commander’s standing right bloody next to her, and now I’m left behind while my Herald goes off to Orlais.”

“Your Herald?”

“My Herald. Your Herald. Our Herald. The Herald. Whatever.”

“Higgins,” the Iron Bull said, laying one huge hand on his shoulder. “I like you, so I’m going to tell this to you like I would one of my Chargers, alright?”

“Alright,” Higgins said, looking up from his tankard.

“You need to grow the fuck up, son.”

Higgins stared at him, shocked.

“You’re talented. You’re strong. You’ve got connections. You need to pull yourself up and take the reins and stop hiding behind the Inquisitor’s skirts. They are _great_ skirts to be behind, don’t get me wrong. But you don’t expect Andraste to magically fix your life and you shouldn’t pin that responsibility on the Inquisitor, either.”

Higgins set the tankard down and turned towards the qunari, but his argument was cut off. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit answer you’ve got for me. Whatever it is, you’re wrong. You don’t like it? Fine. You don’t have to. Doesn’t make it any less the truth.”

Higgins’ jaw closed with an audible snap.

“While the rest of the big shots are in Orlais, you can square off the me and the Chargers in the practice field. Give you a better target than an unsuspecting templar, alright?”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said so far, ser,” Higgins said, turning back to his tankard.

“We’ll make a man of you yet, Nuggins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As tomorrow (Monday) is my 7th wedding anniversary, I'm kicking around the idea of posting some extra chapters. Should I stick to the schedule or celebrate a little?


	44. Paperwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Higgins' missives to and from the Inquisition in Halamshiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added this chapter last-minute on a suggestion from Eisen. <3
> 
> On the timeline, this chapter falls during Chapter 17 and 18 in Of Fear & Lyrium.

**[Day 1]**

_Higgins,_

_We have reached our first camp without incident. Use ravens we have sent from the field to submit your daily report._

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

_Commander,_

_Routines were settled within an hour of your departure. Nothing of any significance to report._

_Standing by for further commands._

_Higgins_

 

 

**[Day 2]**

_Higgins,_

_Received your report. Disappointed by lack of content. Seek to give a more complete report._

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

_Commander,_

_Chargers have kept five-shift rotating schedule, supplementing with volunteer forces to change up the routine._

_Traffic into and out of keep fit standard expectations. Ravens are arriving unscathed, with no signs of distress._

_No outstanding incidents to report._

_Higgins_

 

_Curly,_

_Kid throws a mean right hook. Whatever you’re teaching them, keep it up._

_Bull_

 

 

**[Day 3]**

_Higgins,_

_Received report, found it improved but yet lacking. Seek guidance from Eamon, his reports have always been exceptional._

_Camped for last time in field; will send missive from Duke Gaspard’s estate tomorrow._

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

_Bull,_

_Kid came loaded with that arm. Did you not see him lay out those three chucklefucks?_

_Varric_

 

_Commander,_

_Received your report. Have consulted daily with K/Cpt Eamon and Cpt Tamson regarding appropriate content to missives. Have shown them your request._

_Tamson has ordered minor alteration to patrol routines, to help bolster security. New routes are not to be sent via raven; are documented and filed on your desk._

_Bull informs me ale supplies running low, and he has requisitioned new barrels be purchased. I was instructed not to inform you, but as I am an Inquisition soldier and not a Charger, I felt this to be a conflict of interest._

_Regularly scheduled lyrium shipment arrived without incident. Signed for by Eamon, in Barris’ absence._

_Higgins_

 

 

**[Day 4]**

_Nuggins,_

_I found your letters to Cullen; he didn’t tell me you were responsible for correspondence! I thought you hated paperwork?_

_I wanted to let you know, you’re not missing a fucking thing. Fuck Orlesians, fuck this palace, and fuck this Game. I will petition the Commander to send you on leave when we get back – I hear you haven’t been home in nearly three years, that’s just nuts. I’ve been home more recently than that, and I fucking hate Ostwick!_

_Please tell Bull that his requisition had better be something other than Fereldan dogswill and I expect my standard Nevarran mead to be restocked by the time I return! Do you think Erika could learn to brew it?_

_We’re leaving here tomorrow, expect our return journey to be of similar length._

_Knuckles_

 

_Commander,_

_Received report from Inquisitor. Received confirmation of her request from Bull. Will forward her concern on to appropriate parties._

_Received large shipment of ore from Western Approach. Accompanying ore was a lengthy update from Cpt Rylen. Cpt Tamson broke seal to verify no information was time sensitive; left it for you in your office._

_Received letter addressed to you from South Reach, suspected to be of familial origin. Was left sealed against your return._

_K/Cpt Eamon and Cpt Tamson report nothing further. Bull requests a firmer ETA for your return._

_Higgins_

 

 

**[Day 5]**

_Higgins,_

_News from the Winter Palace: assassination averted. No Inquisition casualties. All correspondence from Orlesian nobility is to be collected to be vetted by Leliana upon her return, regardless of who it was addressed to. I assure you, none of it is for me._

_Commander C[writing illegible]_

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

_Commander,_

_Received first missives from Orlais this morning. Be advised, quantity seems excessive. Birds are being sent back empty._

_Bull reiterates desire for a firmer ETA._

_Received delivery of various supplies from Hinterlands. Allocated resources to appropriate departments; all correlating documents are waiting in your office for your perusal._

_Received formal messenger of Empress Celene requesting apartments be allocated for her representative. Messenger was delivered to Aieyla; Mahvrin has taken over arrangements. Please inform Ambassador Montilyet of said appointment._

_Higgins_

 

_Commander,_

_Signature questionable. Confirm ETA and location of Inquisitor._

_The Iron Bull_

 

 

**[Day 6]**

_Higgins,_

_Inform the commander of the Chargers that my signature was rendered illegible due to inescapable weather conditions. Inquisitor is including separate correspondence for Bull. Confirm arrangements for Orlesian representative. Confirm understanding of unduly large quantity of correspondence._

_ETA is evening tomorrow, near Third Bell._

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

 

_Bull,_

_I thought the weasels in the Marches were bad, but the breed I encountered in Orlais defies belief. I have an altogether new respect for falconry; anything to reduce their population is surely beneficial._

_You better have ordered my mead, you giant antlered assache._

_Knuckles_

 

_Commander,_

_Confirm receipt of ETA._

_With apologies, sustained injury to hand in training today. Giving over report to K/Cpt Eamon_

_Higgins_

 

_Commander,_

_What are you making this poor man write? There is nothing going on here. Higgins broke his hand on the Bull’s jaw in the training ring this morning; he’s got a wicked right hook but it’s no match for the qunari’s face._

_You’ve got roughly 60 missives – most of them scented, the box they’re in is putting off visible fumes – sitting in Leliana’s office._

_You’ve also got six (soon to be seven) days of carefully cataloged and filed reports waiting for you in your office. What is this charade with Higgins, seriously? You never write like this._

_Eamon_

 

 

**[Day 7]**

_Higgins,_

_Final confirmation of ETA. Will arrive in Skyhold near to Third Bell today._

_Pass word on to Knight Captain Eamon that I will be happy to address his concerns in private upon my return._

_Commander Cullen Rutherford_

 

_Commander,_

_Hand much improved. Received confirmation of ETA. Will provide rest of documentation this evening upon your arrival._

_Aside from arrival of bulk mailing from Orlais, received no shipments yesterday. As of this writing, the Bull’s requisition is being drawn through the gates; please inform Inquisitor that her particular order was made and will be ready for her arrival._

_Higgins_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of your gift from me, in honor of my anniversary! I think I'll post another extra tomorrow. :-D


	45. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmmmmbolism

The week the Inquisition leadership was in Halamshiral was a rough one for Higgins.

He sent seven ravens to Commander Cullen.

He received seven missives from Halamshiral.

He got his ass kicked by the Iron Bull seven times.

“You never give up, do you, Nuggins?” Krem asked as he helped Higgins off the practice field, the last morning before the party was set to return.

“Not that I’ve noticed, no,” Higgins answered, reaching up to grasp his broken nose and wrench the bones back into place.

“You’re lucky the mages are coming back today, you’re going to need more than a potion at this rate.”

“Bull is looking pretty rough too, though, you got to give me that much.”

Krem glanced over his shoulder at the qunari. “He’s bleeding, but I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it _rough_.”

“Fuck,” Higgins grunted before falling silent.

“Come on, I’ll help you back to your tent. You want to be rested when the Commander rolls in, you know he’s going to grill you.”

Higgins sipped on a healing draught as they walked, letting Krem guide him over the rougher patches in the path. Killeen’s empty tent next to his made a lump rise in his throat every time he saw it – if anything happened to Killer he’d have a terrible time trying to dismantle her quarters. Luckily, she was just in Orlais – she’d be home soon.

“You still have that in here?” Krem said as he entered Higgins’ tent, gesturing at the crate marked C12.

“Never got around to it,” Higgins replied with a sigh. “Some of it’s mine, some of it’s Glennon’s… thing is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell which is which. So I keep putting it off.”

Krem dropped onto Higgins’ cot and pulled the crate over. “No time like the present.”

Higgins didn’t have an argument that didn’t sound whiny, so he plopped down next to the ‘Vint and cracked the lid.

The smell of pine needles and ink drifted out of the crate, and if he closed his eyes Higgins could almost imagine he was in Haven again, the sun warming their tent through the gap in the trees and Glennon rising early to watch the sun appear over the lake.

“Ink well,” Krem said, lifting the stoppered pot.

“Not dry, so it’s Glennon’s,” Higgins replied with a laugh.

“I’ll take it the unbroken quill was his, too,” Krem said as he lifted the item with a smile.

“If it was well cared for, it was Glennon’s,” Higgins answered.

“Ratty journal?”

“Glennon’s,” Higgins said again. “I need to go through that, figure out whether or not Karl would have wanted anyone to see it.”

“The quill and the ink should be saved, too. So all this is going in the ‘keep’ pile.” Krem said, half to himself.

They went through the whole box that way, Krem taking items out, describing them curtly, and Higgins declaring who'd owned it. Krem decided what Higgins was keeping, what he was giving to the Glennons, and what was being thrown away. Higgins agreed with  _most_ of Krem's decisions.

“I don’t care _how_ attached he was to it, you’re not keeping a bloody sock.”

“Augh, you weren’t there. He insisted my toe was still in there, and hung it from the tent pole to mock me.”

“My statement stands. You’re throwing the manky sock away.”

“It was my _toe_ , Krem.”

“You damn nutter. It’s a bloody nasty sock!”

“Ditch the sock,” a new voice interrupted from the tent flap.

“Erika,” Higgins said, waving for her to come in. “You know Krem.”

Erika blushed prettily. “I see you all the time in the ‘Rest, sirrah, but we’ve not been formally introduced.”

“Really?” Higgins asked, gesturing to Krem. “My apologies, then. Cremisius Aclassi, this is Erika. Erika Glennon, meet Krem.”

“Glennon?” Krem repeated, surprised.

“Karl was my brother,” Erika answered, with a sad smile.

“We’re going through the crate they excavated out of our campsite in Haven,” Higgins told her gently. “That pile there is all Karl’s stuff that I put aside for you. It’s yours, if you want it, to keep or send on.”

Erika leaned forward to cup one hand to Higgins’ cheek. “Thanks, Nuggins.”

Krem laughed. “I love how that’s spread.”

“Branded for life,” Higgins answered easily. “Better she call me Nuggins than start using my first name.”

“Which is?”

“None of your business,” Erika answered archly. “You can bring up to the Herald’s Rest whatever you want me to sort through, big brother. I saw the Iron Bull come in bloodied and figured you were a right mess, wanted to see you for myself. You’re not as bad off as I feared. You break your nose again?”

“Yeah. I’ll have Solas look at it when he gets back. He’s more tolerant of me than Lady Vivienne.”

“When are they expected?”

“This evening, last I knew,” Higgins answered her. “We’ll know about an hour before they get here, the scouts are watching for them.”

Erika nodded. “I’ll make sure the bar is stocked.” She reached over to ruffle his hair before letting herself out of the tent.

“Big brother?” Krem asked.

“The Glennons were the nearest neighbors to my family,” Higgins answered, flipping Karl’s journal end-over-end in his hands while his eyes focused on something miles away. “Karl and I were only a year apart in age, so we grew up together, more or less. Our parents were close, we spent holidays together, shared everything. Two huge families. I’d call any one of the Glennon kids my brother or my sister. I was closer to Karl than I was my own brothers, and Erika is nearer my age than most of the rest of them. We were a jumbled up mess. Big happy family.”

Krem clapped his shoulder as he stood to leave. “Good problem to have, sounds like.”

Higgins nodded absently. “The best.”

“Throw away that sock,” Krem said, ducking out of the tent.

Higgins picked the bloody garment up, twirling it idly for a moment. He stood, walked out of his tent, and dropped it in the fire.

 

*

 

“The fuck happened?” Killeen said by way of greeting when she returned to Skyhold that evening.

“Training with Bull,” Higgins shrugged. “Welcome home, Killer.”

She grinned at him. “You look like boiled ass, Nuggins.”

“She’s right,” DeForest agreed from over her shoulder as he passed by.

“Total shite,” Sera called from a few dozen paces away.

“Thanks, guys,” Higgins said with a grin. “Keep it up, maybe Solas will take pity on me.”

“Andraste’s twisted britches, Nuggins, whatever happened to your face?” Dorian asked as he approached.

Higgins, standing at attention in the courtyard to wait for the Commander to summon him for debriefing, could only shrug as his friends trickled back into Skyhold.

“I was training with the Chargers in your absence.”

“Maker’s sweaty ballsack, Nuggins,” Varric started, and Higgins started to laugh.

“Andraste’s moldy muff, Higgins, what the bloody fuck happened to you?” the Inquisitor demanded, spreading her own shock to everyone standing within earshot.

Higgins choked on his laugh. “Horns up, Inquisitor.”

“Oh, no, _not you too_ ,” she breathed, laughing. “Another convert? How many of my friends will succumb to a _bull to the face_?”

Dorian managed to fight off the worst of the color that rose from his collar, but Higgins was in prime position to see the Tevinter blush. “I was training only, Inquisitor. I assure you there was no lasting damage; to myself, to the Chargers, or to any loyalties.”

Evelyn snorted a laugh, elbowing Dorian before starting up the stairs to the main hall and leaving the chaos of the courtyard behind. “Hear that, Dorian? No _lasting_ damage to any loyalties.”

“This woman will be the end of me, I swear,” Dorian muttered as he followed her up the stairs.

Higgins maintained his stance until the Commander called down from his office door. “Higgins! Report!”

Higgins jogged up the stairs to the Commander’s office and returned to attention.

“Maker’s breath, man, were you fighting _again_?”

“Training, ser.”

Cullen scoffed at the word. “Last time I heard of you _training_ you nearly crippled three of my Lieutenants – including _Aillis_.”

“Training with _the Bull_ , ser.”

“Have you already seen a healer?”

“No, ser. I’m glad you’ve returned, though. We were running dangerously low on elfroot draughts.”

Cullen dropped into the chair at his desk with a helpless laugh. “I’m halfway tempted to send you to Lady Vivienne before accepting your report. You look _awful_.”

“I feel better than I look, I assure you, ser.” Higgins replied, and then launched into a retelling of the – largely uneventful – week the Inquisition had been Halamshiral.

“The first ravens with unknown heraldry arrived two mornings ago, ser, and have been nonstop since. I suspect Sister Nightingale will have more information on that for you,” he concluded.

Cullen sighed. “I would rather you ended that on a different note, but you couldn’t know… Thank you, Higgins.”

“Ser,” Higgins replied, saluting with a fist to his chest.

“Forgive me for commenting, but I hazard the observation that this week has done you well.”

“Permission to speak freely?”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “Granted.”

“Getting the living shit beaten out of them every day, and then having their broken body sat upon and lectured to by a qunari would do wonders for _anyone’s_ disposition. Ser.”

Cullen rocked back in his chair and laughed, a roar of amusement that startled a grin out of Higgins.

“The time on the road seems to have done you well, also, ser,” he ventured.

Cullen actually blushed – blushed! – before shaking his head. “And that ends the _speaking freely_ portion of our evening. You are dismissed, Higgins. You may resume normal duties _after_ your next assigned Watch. Sit out Lieutenant Killeen’s next rotation and heal up. Your next stop needs to be either Solas or Lady Vivienne, understood?”

“Understood, ser,” Higgins answered, and headed across the causeway to Solas’ study.

“I see the reports of your face were not exaggerated,” Solas said with a single raised brow when Higgins entered the room. The elf was mixing a series of tincts on a broad stretch of marble, apparently planning to add on to the growing mural in the antechamber.

“Commander said I had to get checked before I was allowed off duty,” Higgins informed the elf.

Solas finished stirring the powder he was reconstituting and crossed the room to inspect Higgins with fingertips to either side of the soldier’s jaw.

“You are largely intact. You should switch to a more powerful variety of the healing potion, as your use is making you immune to the weaker varietal most soldiers respond to. You’re becoming much like one of the Chargers or even Trevelyan’s inner circle in that regard. But there is no need for a magical intervention.” Solas drew his hands away from Higgins and crossed the room to where a small pack was tucked against a couch. Retrieving a rounded flask full of a dark red liquid, he turned and handed the potion to Higgins.

“Thank you, Solas.”

“You are quite welcome, Higgins. Sleep well.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser,” and he started the long trek back to his tent.

“Commander gave me next Watch off,” he told Killeen as he trudged past her in the courtyard.

“I heard. I expect you to sleep for the next three days,” Killeen answered.

Higgins waved the – still full – healing draught at her. “That’s the plan.”

He didn’t go straight to his tent, though, detouring through the templar portion of the encampment to the row of tents that Eamon and Aillis called home. Aillis was reporting to her Knight-Captain and getting filled on the (exceptionally boring) happenings in Skyhold during her absence.

Higgins waited until Eamon noticed him and waved him over.

“Ser. Just wanted to catch up with Aillis, when you’re through.”

Eamon sighed. “I miss the irreverent Nuggins,” he said, gesturing to Aillis. “She’s all yours, soldier.”

Aillis motioned for Higgins to follow her as Eamon walked away. She ducked into her tent, holding the tent flap open for Higgins. Inside, she passed him her stool and flopped down onto her cot.

“You’re looking fucking terrible,” she said pleasantly.

“I heard,” he laughed. “Look, I’m sorry for… what happened before you left.”

“When I taunted you into a spar and you broke my nose? No apologies necessary, Nuggins. I see someone returned the favor.”

“The Iron Bull did, after I fought Krem into a draw.”

Aillis laughed. “I guess your liasing went well, then.”

“You could say that,” he agreed lightly. “It was an eye-opening week.”

“You seem subdued,” Aillis prodded gently.

“Bull made me think. A lot. I have a lot to gain by shutting my damn mouth and nothing really to lose. I can still be a smart ass… I just have to choose my venue a bit more carefully.”

“Sound advice,” Aillis offered.

“I’m not Varric,” Higgins told her, in a tone of resignation. “I’m not Cassandra, or Cullen, or the Bull. I’m not one of the people who gets to go with her on the road, I’m not her _equal_. I’m a soldier in her forces, and I’m _three_ steps under her in the pecking order. Me treating her like my friend isn’t _me_ doing _her_ a favor. It’s the exact damn opposite. She’s just too amazing to see it that way.”

“Maker’s breath, Higgins, you’re not talking about advice. You’re talking about a complete philosophy shift.”

Higgins shrugged. “Its like… Krem. He’s a Charger. He’s not Bull, he doesn’t go along with the Inquisitor. He’s the equivalent of you, or Aillis. He gets away with all sorts of shit, right?”

Aillis had to agree. “Well, yeah.”

“But I didn’t. I butt heads with the Commander, with Killer, with you… why? What was I doing wrong?”

Aillis shook her head.

“I figure, Krem does it the Bull’s way. I’ll give it a try.”

“Is this what you came to talk to me about?” Aillis asked when Higgins fell silent.

“No, actually. I wanted to know what you were doing about Sera’s personal inquisition. There’s no way you were on the road three days each way and she didn’t approach you once.”

Aillis’ eyebrows drew together in a deep frown as she scowled at Higgins. “No. There’s _no way_ that would happen. She was on me like white on rice _every fucking day_.”

“And? Did you tell her?”

Aillis sat up and threw her pillow at Higgins. “Tell her what? That the Inquisitor is too busy fucking the Commander to look twice at her, so she should settle on me for a consolation prize?”

Higgins caught the pillow but couldn’t mask his shock at her words. “Andraste’s ass, Aillis, there’s got to be a middle ground between _that_ and saying nothing at all.”

Aillis huffed out a sigh and buried her face into her cot. Higgins tossed the pillow onto the back of her head, so when she spoke it was doubly muffled. “I lied. Again. Right to her face. Her gorgeous, perfect, smiling face.”

“What did you say?”

Aillis pulled the pillow under her head and turned to the side – likely so she could actually breathe – and sighed again. “I told her you were wrong, that nobody had my eye. I told her that you and I _had_ been just pretending, so people would stop talking about you and Killeen, but I hadn’t wanted you to know about it… essentially what I told you before. Just. Lying about the fact that I would love for her to sit on my face.”

Higgins burst into laughter. “You should say that. She’d love it.”

“I can’t believe I’m telling you this. _You_.”

“Why not me?”

“Because half the camp thinks I was sitting on _your_ face.”

“And?”

“Void take you, Higgins, I wouldn’t have minded if I had.”

Higgins laughed again. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I’d rather you go to Sera for your unique needs in furniture.”

“Augh, _fuck off_ ,” Aillis groaned and buried her eyes in the pillow.

“But the point, Aillis. Did Sera believe it?”

“NO!” She cried, trying to throw the pillow at him again but getting it caught up in her hair. “No, she knew I was – ow – lying and she – damnit, _ow_ – harassed me – fuck – every day.”

Higgins leaned forward and helped her untangle her fingers from the frayed edge of the pillow case and the loose locks of her raven hair. “Just stop, here, no, will you just – there.”

“Thank you,” Aillis said before twisting to slap him across the face with the pillow.

Higgins snorted a laugh. “You’re welcome.”

“What do I _do_?”

“Since you won’t be honest… enjoy the attention, I suppose.”

Aillis looked up at him blearily. “Enjoy… Higgins, you devious little weasel. You did this on purpose.”

“I did no such thing,” he immediately argued. “I didn’t know it was Sera until the Inquisitor told me, you know that.”

Aillis sighed. “I know. And you’re probably right. I should just tell her and face the consequences of your actions.”

“MY actions-“

“But since I _won’t_ , I’ll just have to get used to her chasing me around the keep.”

“Tell me you’ve had worse problems.”

Aillis managed to smile. “I’ve had _far_ worse problems.”

“Fantastic. I’m off to bed, then. Commander gave me a rotation off, so I’m downing this little beauty-“ he gestured with the still-full healing draught from Solas “-and then sleeping for a full 24. Say hi to Sera for me.”

“Asshole,” she called as he ducked out of the tent, but there was laughter in the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of my anniversary gift to you!  
> Regularly scheduled updates will resume tonight. <3


	46. Weasels in Taffeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Higgins has maybe spent a *little* too much time with the Ben'Hassrath.

Higgins had no idea anything was wrong until the shitstorm hit.

The Inquisitor left for some place far to the west of Orlais, in the desert near the Western Approach, while everyone else struggled to find their equilibrium after Adamant. Killeen finished handing out the crates from Haven and seemed to be in better spirits than anyone had ever seen her. All of Higgins’ friends were officers, with Ringwold’s promotion, and he spent all of his off hours with either the Chargers or whichever of Cullen’s Lieutenants and Captains weren’t on duty. This often found him in the Herald’s Rest, where Erika was gradually becoming friends with – it seemed to Higgins – everyone in the Inquisition.

So when the Iron Bull called an emergency meeting of the officers and Chargers, nobody thought twice to see Higgins invite himself along.

“We got a problem,” the qunari spy announced without preamble. “Seems the Commander attracted some unwanted attention in Orlais at the ball. Some noblewoman is on her way here, intends to force the Inquisition into an _alliance_ of some sort. You really don’t want the details. Point is, the Commander is going into hiding. Only I know where he is, and it’s going to stay that way. Eamon and Tamson are taking over the running of Skyhold again, like when everyone was in Halamshiral. Barris has bigger fish to fry; last I heard he was in Val Royeaux attemping an apology to some Revered Mother who got shitcanned by Lord Seeker Lucius. I’ll handle whatever trouble this Comtesse produces, you make sure the keep stays secure and our activites abroad aren’t interrupted. This could be a feint.”

“Please tell me somebody warned the Inquisitor,” Eamon said into the stunned silence.

“Oh yes,” Bull chuckled. “Cullen already sent for the Boss. It’ll be a week or so before she can get back, at least, and that’s if she runs the whole way. Our goal is to get rid of the Comtesse before the Boss shows up and rips her apart. The upside is, if we don’t succeed, we get to see the Inquisitor angry. I’ve been looking forward to that for _months_.”

“So the Commander is well… just currently missing?” Tamson asked.

“Not the lyrium,” Eamon said with a headshake.

“Definitely not,” Aillis agreed. “We saw him this morning. It may happen fast, but not _that_ fast.”

“You been keeping your eye on Cullen’s withdrawals, then?” Bull asked the templars. He got a sea of nodded heads in return. “Barris said as much. You’re just going to have to trust me until this blows over. I’ll let you know what sort of condition he’s in.”

“We trust you,” DeForest assured the qunari. “You’re one step behind the Commander as far as we’re concerned.”

The Comtesse Cecille d’Lyons arrived three days later. Killeen and Higgins had, by this time, determined that the Commander was hiding somewhere in the main hall, as Krem hadn’t left the banquet table next to Varric for more than an hour since the meeting they’d had with Bull. Higgins had a friendly (and closely-guarded secret) wager with Killeen and Aillis on the side: Killeen thought Cullen was somewhere in the rooms beneath the hall, a labyrinth of servant’s quarters and confusing hallways. Aillis threw her coin on Aillis and Mahvrin’s office, which had been put strictly off-limits to everyone except the elves themselves. Higgins put a whole silver on Cullen being in the Inquisitor’s quarters. They would have to wait, however, until _the weasel_ (as she was known throughout Skyhold) was chased out of the keep.

She came with a full entourage: half a dozen ladies-in-waiting, an armed escort that was given the corner of the encampment the furthest from the keep, and two men-at-arms who stayed within arm’s reach when she was moving about the keep, and traded off duties at mealtimes and overnight.

The Comtesse had Josephine attached to her hip; at first she was flattered, but Josie was relentless. The Comtesse spent the first three hours trying to reach the Commander’s office. Once Josephine finally relented and took her there – to find it empty but for a grinning Killeen – she insisted on a full tour of the keep. She was denied in terms so carefully couched as to be impossible to argue.

“My lady d’Lyons, please, I had this room specially prepared for you,” Josephine was saying as she, the Comtesse, and six ladies-in-waiting fluttered past where Higgins was stationed in the main hall. The two men-at-arms were following at a respectful distance, and Higgins was far more concerned about them than the Comtesse. “If the room is not to your liking, it is best if I know as quickly as possible, so I can have it rectified while you sit for tea with Mother Giselle.”

“As you wish, Lady Montilyet,” the Comtesse sighed. “When will you deign to allow me a tour of Skyhold?”

“I can arrange a full showing for tomorrow afternoon, my lady Comtesse. We have a unit of our finest prepared to parade into the keep for your inspection, as well as a private viewing in the garden. As you can see as we pass through on the way to your rooms, it is quite impossible to clear the garden this afternoon. The Marquis of Verchiel is entertaining a group of your countrymen, whom I am sure would love to make your acquaintance if you truly desire to be out and social. I assumed you would care to rest after your journey, my lady. May we not inspect your rooms?”

“Yes, by all means, lead the way.”

“You don’t need me, do you, Killer?” Higgins asked his Lieutenant as the entourage was escorted out of the hall.

“You’re technically off duty in fifteen. You’ve been pulling extra, though, so I don’t think anyone can complain if you swan off a bit early. Do I want to know what you have planned?”

“Horns up,” he answered, and swaggered off in the direction of the Comtesse.

“Krem!” he heard Killeen call out as he turned the corner. “Krem, get your ass over here!”

The Comtesse was situated in her rooms – which she of course could find no complaint for, as they had been vacated only two days before by Cyril de Montfort, son of the late Duke Prosper. Her men-at-arms stationed themselves at her door, and Higgins watched from the garden as they drew straws for who was going to take first watch at the door, as Cecille was likely to be within for the better part of an hour as she dressed for tea.

One man strode off, leaving the slightly shorter, shield-bearing guard at the door. Higgins paced himself so he would be walking next to the man-at-arms as he reached the doors back to the main hall.

“Oh, there you are,” Higgins said to him, falling into step beside the Orlesian. “As you’re responsible for the security of the Comtesse, you are to be offered a briefing on the keep, as the Inquisition has lost its base of operations in the past. Maker forbid we are attacked, but you should know where is best to take your lady in the worst case scenario.”

“Oh, I…” the man was completely taken aback by Higgins’ offer. “Of… of course. Lead the way, soldier.”

“I’m Higgins,” he introduced himself. “I am happy to be your personal liason while you are in Skyhold if you prefer. My Lieutenant is Killeen, we’ll be walking past her in a moment, and she in turn reports to Captain Tamson. But if you ever need something, just ask for Higgins. Everybody knows me.”

“Higgins!” Killeen called as he and the man-at-arms entered the main hall.

“There she is, now,” Higgins said, smoothly leading the Orlesian to his Lieutenant. “Lieut, I’m giving the standard security briefing to lady Comtesse’s man-at-arms. I will try to be done by Third Bell, if you prefer, but I don’t mind staying on for a bit of Fourth Watch.”

Killeen, somehow, kept a straight face. “Absolutely, Higgins. And you are, soldier?”

“Allender, ser. Reme Allender.”

“Allender, good. And your fellow?”

“Lewis, ser. Lewis of Starkhaven.”

“A bit far afield for an Orlesian Comtesse's guard, isn’t he?. We’ve taken to giving the surname _Stark_ to anyone from Starkhaven, should they desire it. Higgins, inform the other man-at-arms of our convention.”

“Absolutely, ser. Anything else, ser?”

“Krem wants to meet you at the ‘Rest later.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day. Thank you, ser.”

Higgins gestured for Allender to follow him, and led the man down the front stairs to the courtyard.

“Armory, should you need it. Training ring is there, but there’s a better one out in the encampment. This one is mostly for visitors and recruits in their first months of service, before they’re given any responsibility on watch. That building, there, is the Herald’s Rest. Best tavern in Thedas.”

“You’ve been to enough to judge?” Allender asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I take the Chargers’ word for it. They’ve been everywhere. The Iron Bull leads their company, and he’s the only person I’ve met who’s been in Seheron.”

Allender had _nothing_ to say to that, following Higgins silently on a quick round of the battlements as Higgins gave him the barest sketch of the keep’s defenses.

“So from that quick introduction, you can see the garden is one of the safest places for your lady to be. Maker forbid we’re overrun, the evacuation starts in the undercroft. Dagna has a plan… I can essentially guarantee it’s a plan none of us will like, but since we trust Dagna with our lives, we go with it. The entrance to the undercroft is near the Inquisitor’s throne in the main hall.”

“I… see. Thank you, Higgins.”

“My pleasure. You got another few minutes before you need to get back? I’ll introduce you to everyone in the ‘Rest, in case you need someplace to go when you’re not on duty.”

“I would appreciate that, yes.”

“Follow me, then.”

Bull was in his usual spot, as were Maryden and Cabot. Erika came out from the back room when she heard the Chargers call a greeting – “Nuggins!”

“Oh, yeah, Allender. Varric has a way of giving people nicknames. A lot of us end up with pseudonyms; it can get confusing, but they’re usually pretty self-explanatory.”

“Why do they call you Nuggins?” he asked as Higgins pivoted to catch Erika’s flying hug.

“I hear he made the Inquisitor laugh to the point of near incontinence one night in Haven,” Erika laughed, “teaching her a Fereldan song about a nug.”

“Sera fucked up the ending-“ Higgins laughingly finished for her, getting an outraged _HEY_ from the second floor.

“-and once lady Trevelyan started using it, the name stuck.”

“The Inquisitor gave you this name? After a song about a _nug_?”

“Actually, Krem gave it to me. He’s Bull’s Lieutenant. Hey, Bull!”

The qunari stood up and swaggered over to Higgins. “What are you up to, Higgins?”

“This is Allender, one of the Comtesse d’Lyons men-at-arms. I gave him the standard security briefing. I feel he is comfortable with his obligations should, Maker Forbid, Skyhold came under attack.”

“Ah, good man. Allender, is it? Welcome to Skyhold. You want to hear something, Maryden can play it – or make it up. You want something to drink, Erika can brew it and Cabot can pour it. You want to hit something, you come find me, I’ll set you up.”

“Ah, y-y-yes, yes ser,” Allender answered, clearly taken aback by the qunari.

“What’s your timeframe? You got a minute for a drink?” Higgins asked, clapping him on the back.

“Actually no, Higgins, my apologies. I should go and share your briefing with Lewis, and prepare for the lady’s emergence for dinner. But I thank you for your incredible hospitality. I will be sure to extend your courtesies to my comrade.”

“Next time, then,” Higgins said with a wave. Allender shot a last look – a regretful one, it seemed – at Cabot before leaving the tavern.

“What the fuck was that?” Krem asked, coming down the stairs from behind Sera’s laughing form.

“Oh, you know… standard-“

“Bullshit,” Krem cut him off. “You just gave a tour of the defenses to the _enemy_.”

“Wait a minute,” Bull said, putting a hand on Krem’s shoulder. “It is entirely possible we just watched Nuggins’ testicles drop.”

Erika went red and excused herself, but Higgins took no offense. “First, I really did only give him enough information to keep Cecille out of harm’s way in case of trouble. Second, I told him any evacuation would be launched from the undercroft.”

Bull sat down heavily, chuckling. “Where Dagna will cheerfully throw them off the cliff if she thinks they’ve betrayed us. Smart.”

“We don’t even have to warn Dagna; she’s brilliant enough to pick up on it. She knows what’s going on.”

“Alright. So what’s your long game?” Bull asked. Krem was rapidly cooling, anger being replaced with a sort of respect.

“Conversion. Allender there fights with a two-hander, and his _comrade_ , as he said, has a sword and shield. Get this, though - the other guy is a ‘Marcher. Commoner. What kind of Free Marcher commoner gets hired on as a man-at-arms for a snooty Orlesian noblewoman?”

“Far too obvious to be a spy,” Bull thought aloud. “So probably damn good with that sword.”

“And likely not treated well,” Krem added.

“So, when the Inquisitor gets here, would you rather have her cutting through these guys to get to the Comtesse? Or would you rather they be already considering a change of employment, and maybe not put up much of a fight?”

Bull’s one eye narrowed. “The Boss can take _four times_ that many men-at-arms, with a sucking chest wound, Nuggins.”

“…and she’ll be mad enough to cut through them like they’re nothing,” Higgins agreed.

“So you tell them not to put up much resistance, in the hopes of them maybe living?” Krem surmised.

“They remind me of Glennon and me, before we got here,” Higgins admitted. “And Trevelyan will feel bad about it later if she cuts them to ribbons. _And_ we might get two new soldiers out of it who _don’t suck_ , and that would be a nice change.”

“And you undermine the Comtesse’s hold on them, so if she _is_ planning something…” Krem continued

“She has two less conspirators. Also, he knows me now. I’m going to introduce him to _everybody_. Pretty hard to sneak around when everybody knows who you are.”

“Well, then,” Bull laugh, clapping Higgins hard enough on the shoulder to about send him reeling. “You off duty, Higgins?”

“Did Third Bell ring?”

“Yes,” Krem nodded.

“Then yes, ser.”

“Round for the house!” Bull roared. “And a second for Nuggins!”

 

*

 

Higgins managed to keep the number of tankards he was handed to a sober minimum – only finishing one – so that when Allender’s comrade appeared in the ‘Rest some three hours later, Higgins was able to give him the same information he’d given Allender.

“Killeen wanted me to tell you that the Inquisition refers to soldiers by last names. Not everybody has one, so we give options. Since you’re from Starkhaven, the naming convention is to call you _Stark_. From Ostwick, you’d be Wick, and from Kirkwall… well, you’d be pitied.” Higgins winked hugely at the Marcher, getting a broad grin in return. “If there’s something you’d rather be called… we can absolutely call you Lewis, if you want; the templars all go by their first names. Or if there’s an older family name, or a pro-“

“Weaver,” the man-at-arms interrupted. “My family was Weavers, it was what we were called. I’m from somewhat outside Starkhaven, it was just easier than explaining my village.”

“Understood,” Higgins laughed easily. “We always said we were from Highever, although we were freeholders from a few miles outside of town.”

“My first employer said weavers didn’t hold shields, and made me drop the name,” Weaver said.

“Well, not to be crude, but _fuck that guy_ ,” Krem said, butting into the conversation as Higgins led the man-at-arms back into the tavern. “You won't get that shit here. The Inquisition is the best outfit the Chargers ever signed on to. The Inquisitor keeps out of the army’s business – lets the Commander and the Knight-Commander do their thing – but makes sure she knows people’s names, where they’re from, what they’re like.”

“You talking about the Inquisitor?” Erika asked from behind the bar, where she was broaching a new barrel for Cabot. “The day I arrived, she walked right up to me, told me what a fine man my brother had been. Changed my life, she did.”

“Shut you up, is what she did,” Higgins laughed, and then had to duck under the tankard she lobbed at his head.

Krem reacted faster, catching it before impact, and settling it gently back on the bar. “Apologize to your sister, Higgins.”

Erika and Higgins both laughed, and she wheeled around to catch him in another hug. “Sister?” Weaver asked.

“Of a sort,” Higgins started to say, but was quickly overrun.

“Grew up next door. My brother, Karl, dragged _Higgins_ here off a’soldiering and ended up in the Inquisition. Karl was lost in Haven… but we were grateful that _Higgins_ at least survived.” Erika was clearly not enjoying having to use his last name, but she was respectful of the decision, and Higgins loved her for it.

They raised their mugs, then, in Glennon’s memory, and were silent for a bit. The rest of the tavern noise continued on, unabated. After awhile, Weaver ventured a question.

“I know the party line is that the Commander is gone somewhere…”

“Weaver, I’ll tell it to you straight,” Krem said, hooking a barstool and dropping onto it to slouch against the edge of the bar. “My Commander, the Iron Bull over there, is quite literally _the only person_ who knows where Cullen is right now, excepting Cullen himself. If it is _really_ that important, the Bull will give you an opportunity to find out.”

“Yeah?” Weaver asked, leaning against one of the huge columns supporting the ceiling joists. He clearly saw the catch coming.

“Absolutely,” Krem assured him. “All you have to do in exchange, is take a hit from his axe.”

“The Iron Bull being the qunari barbarian Allender met earlier?”

“The very same.”

“I don’t get to see a mirror very often,” Weaver said, kicking the heel of one booted foot to rest on the toe of the other and crossing his arms comfortably, “but I must look _fucking stupid_ if you think I’m going for _that_ trade.”

Their little group exploded into laughter, and Higgins called for another drink for the man-at-arms. “On me, Cabot, on me.”

“That might be the first time you’ve ever paid for a drink in here,” the stoic dwarf observed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so if you've been reading comment threads you might know NCGrimm is bullying me into a side-project. I probably could have resisted if Eisen and Zombolouge and KathSilverr hadn't jumped on the peer pressure bandwagon. And then my husband thought the entire thing was hilarious, so now here we are.
> 
> http://offearandlyrium.tumblr.com/
> 
> Go chime in.


	47. Dodging a Legend

Higgins was waiting for Aillis when she came off Fourth Watch that night.

“Got a minute to chat?” he asked, jogging to catch up to her at the gate as she tugged off her helmet and started the walk back to her tent.

“Sure thing,” she agreed easily.

Higgins softly filled her in on his plan to subvert the Comtesse’s men-at-arms as they made the long walk out through the encampment. He told her everything he’d learned from the men – their nationalities, specialties, general personalities – while she ducked into her tent to peel off the majority of her armor. She pulled a bucket of water off the fire – placed there by the men who attended the camp fires for soldiers coming off Watch or just waking up, at every Bell – and roughly washed as she listened.

“I was right,” she said as he finished, “when I called you a devious little weasel.”

“I did spend a lot of time with Bull while you took your Orlesian vacation,” he replied.

They sat by the fire, winding down after a long day.

“Eamon said something to me once… been meaning to ask you,” Higgins broke the comfortable silence.

“Oh, this should be good.”

“He said he’d known you for twenty years.”

Aillis laughed. “He has, prideful twat.”

“Are you two like Glennon and me, then?”

Aillis shook her head. “Not precisely. I was given to the Chantry when I was born. I always assumed I was the daughter of a mage, but it wasn’t ever important enough to me to ask. There were a lot of kids like me in the chantry; I was never alone, always cared for. I think that’s why templars and clerics tend to only go by their first names; nobility means nothing there, and so many of us don’t have families…”

“Andraste’s blistered ankles, Aillis, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“No, it’s fine,” she laughed. She didn’t seem upset. “Eamon was given to the chantry for templar training when he was eight or so. I was… quite a bit younger. I don’t really remember him arriving, but he ended up being assigned to watch me more than once. We eventually became friends, when I was, you know… walking and talking and shit.”

Higgins caught her mood and laughed with her. “Is he the reason you became a templar?”

“Part of it, maybe. He was one of many good templars I grew up idolizing. Alistair, the King of Ferelden, started out his templar training in my chantry, before Duncan recruited him into the Wardens. That was an incredible thing to watch, let me tell you. Commander Cullen was there, too, for awhile. All the best templars come from Ferelden, you know.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“What’s this I hear about some parade tomorrow?”

Higgins chuckled. “Josephine’s idea. You’ll love it. Cullen’s office should be the best place to watch from, just be there by Second Bell.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Oh, no. You would much rather watch this one unfold. It’s masterful.”

 

*

 

It was, at first glance, the saddest parade in history.

Comtesse d’Lyons was barely able to keep her sneer from being visible from the courtyard as 45 men and women of the Inquisition, in well-polished and maintained but obviously battle-hardened armor, marched into formation as the Bells rang Second.

“And what is this?” she asked into the silence.

Captain Tamson stood forward from his position at the front of the column.

“Men and Women of the Inquisition, honored guests.” He paused as if preparing for a speech, but concluded with only: “We are blessed to serve.”

He stepped back into line. In the row with him stood four Lieutenants: Killeen, Ringwold, DeForest, and Chambreterre.

Higgins stood directly behind Tamson on the second of nine rows.

“My lady,” Leliana’s words cut through the air, somehow emphasizing the utter silence in the courtyard. “Before you stands the entirety of the Inquisition forces who survived the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These are all that remain of the men and women who defended the Divine’s Conclave. You are witness to the first – and only – parade march of the Survivor’s Brigade.”

Eyes were pulled to the massive encampment beyond the walls; every last one of the soldiers _not_ standing in this small rectangle of steel had been recruited after the Inquisition’s birth.

In the silence – the oppressive silence – Higgins imagined everyone who should be standing with him: Varlan, Everitt, Hendricks, Pierce, Walker, Jenson, Brown… and Glennon. He concentrated on the weight of Glennon’s shield on his back.

“Sister Leliana,” Tamson stood forward again. “You are incorrect. We are missing one.”

“Oh?” Josephine said, flipping quickly through her notes. “Who did I miss?”

“Captain Rylen, lady Montilyet,” Tamson answered. “But he could not be spared from the Western Approach, and sends his regards.”

If the Comtesse did not feel the weight of the image presented her, every member of her entourage did. The captain of her escort had been brought in from the encampment to witness the parade; unlike the Comtesse, he had not scoffed when they had marched through the gates. Allender and Weaver, standing some distance behind their charge, were clearly straining to keep their composure.

“Maker’s balls,” the Marquis of Verchiel swore, breaking the spell. “To survive the Conclave was a feat, but then the destruction of Haven? The march here through the mountains? The siege of Adamant? I am surprised there are _any_. Any one of these 45… 46, forgive me; any one of these 46 is worth a dozen Chevaliers.”

As one, the 45-soldier formation brought up their right fists to clank against their breastplates.

“You honor us, my lord Marquis,” Tamson called to him before ordering the parade out of formation and back out of the courtyard. The templars who had joined at Haven in the last days of the Breach had all pulled out their ceremonial armor and were lining the path out of the keep, standing silently at attention.

As the last of them passed through, the templars turned and followed them down to the encampment. They marched into the practice ring, where they stood for a moment of silence in honor of everyone who _should have been_ standing among them. The command to dismiss was largely ignored, but over the next hour they trickled gradually back to their tents.

“Eamon told me to suit up but didn’t say why,” AIllis told Higgins when she found him and Killeen, arm-in-arm with Ringwold and Tamson on the path out to their portion of the camp. “There are really only 46 of you now?”

“Jenson’s unit took the heaviest losses at Adamant,” Ringwold answered for him. “All but three or four of the Conclave survivors there were lost. The rest are in Killeen’s unit – and we don’t travel much anymore. Roz and I tend to leave the veterans here to help train all the recruits coming in, and to make sure the Inquisitor always has familiar faces around.”

“So the only one who isn’t in the keep is Rylen,” Killeen finished. “I sort of like the title. _Survivor’s Brigade_ has a kind of ring to it. Did Leliana make that up on the spot?”

“I think so,” Tamson laughed. “I’m sure not complaining.”

“I think it went right over the Comtesse’s head,” Killeen complained.

“But not Weaver and Allender,” Higgins said with a smile.

“Who’s that?” Tamson asked.

Killeen, laughing, filled the Captain in with the entire story as they made their way to the campfire in Killeen’s part of the camp. Eamon and DeForest joined them, and over the next hour others trickled in until every seat was full. Higgins, sitting between Aillis and Ringwold, leaned back and listened as they told stories about the fallen.

Killeen – and a couple dozen of her soldiers – had gotten out of their shift that day, but Aillis’ company was on for Fourth, and they jogged off at Third Bell. Their places were filled by others, and the politics in the keep that had created the Survivor’s Brigade were forgotten in the encampment.

 

*

 

“You survived the Conclave?” Weaver asked Higgins the next evening, when the soldier hiked up to the keep to check in on Erika before his Watch started at Third Bell. Erika was consumed with the task of duplicating the honeyed liquor – Nevarran mead, apparently – that the Inquisitor favored. She barely glanced at him, smiled, and then went back to her work, leaving him to sit at the bar silently with Cabot until Weaver found him.

“More or less,” Higgins answered evenly. “I was on Watch in Haven, at the gates with a man named Varlan. He was a veteran of the Fifth Blight. The stories he must have had… I’d only just met him, hadn’t had a chance to bring him around to talking about the darkspawn or the Hero of Ferelden. Once the Temple blew, we didn’t have much time for talk. We spent 12 hours on the mountain, six hours in Haven, and six hours asleep. Once you tacked on travel time and nerves it was about four hours of sleep, but every second counted.”

“They say…” Weaver stopped, swallowed roughly, started again. “They say over a thousand people died.”

“Closer to two, when you consider how many were up at the Conclave,” he replied softly, remembering when Glennon had told him the news in those precise words.

“Maker…” Weaver breathed.

“You could tell when the Herald woke up,” Higgins told him without looking up from his tankard – tea, since he was working that night, but cold and in a beer stein because Cabot was _just that good_. “The demons had been coming down the mountain like icemelt in the spring thaw, a stream that built into a river. We were drowning. We knew she was trying to close the Breach, but at that point…? We had been fighting for four days, maybe five, and the only thing that was important was staying alive, keeping your brothers alive, giving the civilians a chance to escape. And then there was a lull. For a few minutes, there were no demons. More came, but the lulls started getting longer and longer. We started to push back. We got halfway up the mountain and the demons were just… gone. Piles of goo everywhere, but no demons. No rifts. We got to the top and the main rift – the big one under the Breach, the one that started them all – was closed. The Breach was still there, but it was… I don’t know, quiet? Not that it was making any noise, and it was still swirling in the sky, but it was just, calmer, somehow.”

“And that’s when you met her? The Herald?”

“Not then. She’d been unconscious for days at that point, since she’d fallen out of the rift to begin with. Fighting her way up the mountain took what little health out of her that she’d manage to build up, and she was dangling over Varric Tethras’ shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She said the next day she was becoming known for her _spectacular entrances and undignified exits_. She met everyone, then… wandered around Haven and tried to figure out where she was and why.”

“Did she tell you then that Andraste had sent her to save us?”

Higgins laughed. “That what they're telling people in Orlais?”

Weaver shrugged.

“She never said anything on the subject, nothing anyone would want to hear, at least.”

“Then why…?”

“When she came out of the Fade,” Higgins closed his eyes, seeking the memory deep beneath layers of terror, “she was a wreck. She just tumbled out, landed on her face. But the rift… that big rift, in the middle of what used to be the Temple of Sacred Ashes… they’re sort of see-through. This one, for just a minute, stopped being a window and was a door. It wasn’t wispy and blowing in the wind, it was solid and showed… showed a nightmare. There were two women, one ragged and filthy, the other white, glowing… like she was made of pure light. She was… holy, is the only way I can explain it. Looking at her, you knew there was nothing about her that wasn’t good, wasn’t pure. It was only for a moment, and then demons started streaming through and this filthy wraith of a woman was sprawled on the flagstones in front of me, her left hand a blaze of green fire.”

“You were there?” Erika breathed, having been drawn from her work by Higgins’ story. Higgins opened his eyes to find half the tavern gathered around him, openly staring.

Higgins nodded. “Glennon – your brother, Karl – and I picked her up off the flagstones and carried her to the chantry in Haven. Commander sent us, told us to get the Nightingale involved. We carried her straight to Rylen, who was left in charge of Haven, and he locked her up for her own protection. Everitt was determined that she was Maleficar, and by the time she woke up he had half of Haven convinced of it.”

“Karl carried the Herald of Andraste off the sacred mountain of Haven?” Erika whispered.

Higgins nodded.

“Why… why didn’t you ever tell us?”

Higgins shrugged. “We spent days trying not to die – and hearing her called _the prisoner_. Then she saved us. When she woke up, she was… she was just like you, Erika. Wide-eyed and staring, out of place, twitching everytime somebody around her started to whisper, talking about her when she was _right there,_ as if she couldn’t hear. You don’t write home bragging about taking care of a hurt woman. And then she started talking, and buying everybody in town a round at the tavern, and learning Fereldan songs at the campfire, and… it was easier to just forget the half-dead, broken body we carried off the mountain.”

The tavern was silent.

An arm wrapped around Higgins’ shoulders – he glanced up to see Maryden’s face looming to his right and he smiled, lightly clasping her hand.

“Everitt. Glennon. You.” she listed the names. “Who else? Who else was there when she appeared?”

Higgins closed his eyes again, fought for the memory. “The Commander. He had to keep Everitt from spitting her on the spot. Pierce, maybe? Or Walker. Nobody else I recognized later, so likely nobody else survived that week. You’ll have to ask the Commander to be sure, he never forgets things like that.”

“Higgins,” Maryden breathed, taking his face with her hands. “You’re the only one left in the world who saw the woman in the Fade. Just you. You are – aside from the Herald, herself – the only living person to have put eyes on Andraste.”

Higgins had no words for Maryden – or anyone else. Thinking about it that way, he was suddenly sure of one thing:

It couldn’t have been Andraste in the Fade.

He would _know_ it.

Everything Evelyn had ever said suddenly slipped into place… and it didn’t matter. She was the right hand of the Maker’s Bride, regardless of whose hand had thrust her back into the world of the living.

“Nah,” Higgins laughed, “I told Varric Tethras. That’s the same as _everybody_ having seen it.”

The bar erupted in laughter, and the spell Higgins’ story had cast was broken.

“Thirty ‘til,” Cabot told him, with a jerk of his chin. The bartender never let a guard be late for their shift.

“Off to work,” Higgins announced, pushing back off the barstool.

“I’ll walk you out,” Weaver quickly offered, standing up to fall into step behind him.

“The Herald – the Inquisitor – what is she like? Really?” he asked as they angled towards the kitchen so Higgins could eat a quick dinner before his shift.

“She’s the Angel of Death,” Higgins answered easily. “She’s faster than any fighter I’ve ever seen. I cannot imagine her equal. She wraps herself in twilight and blood, and she vanishes into shadow.” They walked a few paces in silence as Higgins led threm through a bit of a crowd in the courtyard training ring to pass through the archway beneath the main hall doors. “She’s funny, with the most vulgar language you can imagine. She’s nobly born but chose to run with the carta, the casteless. She’s beautiful and terrible and wonderful. And she loves – _loves_ – to sing. She collects music like Dennett collects horses, like Varric collects stories. She stood in the shadows behind me at the gates of Adamant and told me she had my back. And she _did_. She walked through a living nightmare in the Fade rather than die, so that she could return to us, so she could save us again. She has died for us three times already, and she would do it again in an instant, give up everything, to make sure our world has a future.”

They reached the kitchen line and Higgins turned to look Weaver in the eye. “She is the single greatest human being on the planet. And Weaver… if your charge sets you against the Inquisitor, you will not survive but on her mercy.”

Weaver, to his credit, merely nodded. “I know. If I live through this…”

“Would you want a tent with Allender? Or away from him?”

Weaver laughed. “As far away from that Orlesian prick as possible.”

Higgins clapped him on the shoulder. “Go wait on your lady’s dinner, I’ve got to get to work before Killer lives up to her name.”

 

*

 

The Comtesse had been in residence for four days when Evelyn rolled in like a thundercloud. Killeen’s unit had served First that morning, so Higgins was dead asleep in the encampment, not stirring at the commotion made by calls of welcome and the honor guard meeting her at the gate. Killeen, helping cover for the hidden Commander, was waiting for the Inquisitor’s party in the courtyard.

“Nuggins,” Aillis’ voice called him back to consciousness.

“Can we stop this trend? Please? I mean, as lovely as your voice is…”

“Trevelyan came back. I came to get you as soon as I could get out of the keep.”

Higgins snapped out of his cot. “What happened?”

“We think your plan worked; maybe she just really doesn’t like killing the help, but Weaver and Allender both survived. Killeen’s taking Weaver into your company, Allender is assigned to DeForest.”

Higgins pumped a fist in celebration. “And the weasel?”

“Disgraced. She and Trevelyan had an argument in the main halls - did you know the Comtesse was here because she wanted to _marry Cullen_? You can imagine how Knuckles took that. She took the Comtesse into custody, for attempting to assassinate the Inquisitor, as witnessed by Madame de Fer.”

“Oh, she’s _fucked_ ,” Higgins hooted. “That’s _amazing_.”

“I know, right? Here’s the problem, though – Killeen’s been put in charge of escorting the Comtesse to Val Royeaux. My guess is she’s going to leave you here, in charge of the unit while she’s away. Commander’s going to get you in the officer’s club if it kills him.”

While Higgins considered the news, Aillis let herself out of the tent.

“Aillis!” he called her back.

“What?” she said from outside.

“Where was the Commander?”

There was a long silence – a sigh – and then the tent flap opened just wide enough to admit Aillis’ hand, with two silver coins in the palm.

“The Inquisitor’s apartments? I was right?”

“Take the fucking money, Nuggins.”

 

*

 

_Killer,_

_Weaver is fantastic. You’re welcome._

_I think we need to shuffle Crews and Davis a bit, but only on the training ring. They can’t even touch each other anymore, and as much as you hate it, you really ought to pit them against smaller men. They need to get faster, not stronger._

_Dorian begged me to ask you for something from Val Royeaux. He didn’t seem to care what it was, so long as it was expensive and Tevinter in origin. I think he’s homesick. He’s good for the money._

_Nuggins_

_Nuggins,_

_I already bought Dorian a gift! Don’t you dare tell him. Tell him there’s nothing Tevinter in the Orlesian markets, as it’s horribly out of fashion. I heard that at Halamshiral and always wanted to use it, ha!_

_I don’t know if you heard, but Blackwall’s here. Apparently his name isn’t Blackwall, it’s Ranier? It’s all incredibly fucked up. Instead of just dropping the Comtesse and heading home, I’m stuck in limbo while we arrange a prisoner swap._

_Do me a favor and air out my tent whenever you can. I don’t want it to be musty like when we came back from the Winter Palace. It was like sleeping in a librarian’s fart._

_Killer_

_Killer,_

_Why is Blackwall a prisoner? I don’t want any other reply from you but that._

_Dorian called your bluff. That or he knows I’m a shitty liar. You’re on your own._

_Your tent is disgusting. You’re worse than me! I found a sock in your pillowcase that was dripping wet. I don’t even want to know how. If you don’t want it to smell musty, for the love of the Maker, dry your socks._

_Nuggins_

_Nuggins_

_First, unlike you, I didn’t have a mother and a passel of sisters to teach me how to keep my shit clean. Thank you for your continued efforts to keep my tent from smelling like dracolisk leavings._

_Second, I’m not sure I can explain what’s happened with Blackwall, much less in a missive this size. He’s a fugitive posing as a Warden, I guess, and gave himself up rather than let another one of his men be hung for whatever crime he ordered them to commit. The takeaway is, he’s not a Warden, and if the dragon is an archdemon, we are well and truly fucked._

_Killeen_

_Killeen,_

_I got the story from the Commander. He’s pissed. Way more mad than he ever has been at me. It was wonderful to see._

_He also told me you’re on your way home, so you might not get this raven. I figured the bird won’t mind the exercise._

_Your tent is aired. Your manky socks are dry. And you’re missed._

_Hurry back, Killer, this place ain’t the same without you._

_Nuggins_


	48. Finding a Bluebird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bird does not sing because he has an answer. He sings because he has a song. (Joan Walsh Anglund)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wicked Grace! A short chapter, a fluffy interlude, before we launch into the heavier material.
> 
> Also, this is super early, but I really wanted to be able to say I posted this chapter from a bar. <3

The Inquisitor was packing up to leave – off to somewhere in Orlais again – when Killeen finally got back with Blackwall. It had been so long since they had _all_ been in the keep and _well_ that Trevelyan asked Killeen to set up a game of Wicked Grace in the ‘Rest the day before she left.

Lace Harding was in the Western Approach – awaiting the Inquisitor’s arrival – and Sutherland was out on assignment somewhere in Ferelden. They were lucky that the day fell on the convenient part of the guard schedule for Killeen and Aillis: Knight-Lieutenant Myles’ company had Fourth Watch, with Lieutenant Baudin on First the next morning. Meeting at Third Bell in the ‘Rest allowed Killeen and Aillis both to be there without skipping out on their Watch, and they extended an invitation to a very grateful – if confused - DeForest.

Eamon and Tamson came, as did Sera and Varric. To give them an even number, Higgins tracked down and physically dragged Ringwold to join them. Higgins gazed around the long table with an odd sort of pride, for the company the Inquisitor chose to keep on her last day at home.

“Enjoying the new job, Ringwold?” Evelyn asked as Varric took the first deal.

“Loving it,” the new Lieutenant replied with a wide grin. “I see why Roz is so content. My soldiers either love me for getting them out into the world, or love me for bringing them back to Skyhold.”

“The Ferelden rotations are all leisure tours now, aren’t they?” Eamon laughed.

“More or less,” Ringwold agreed. “Well, except the Fallow Mire.”

“I humbly beg your permission to _never talk about the Fallow Mire_ ,” Higgins grumbled, throwing his cards down.

“Agreed!” Trevelyan called, standing up to reach across the table and briskly shake Higgins’ hand.

“We playin’ for stories or wot?” Sera asked, leaning forward to draw a card.

“I’m always game for stories,” Varric agreed easily.

Sera went first, this time – a slightly disjointed tale of a painted box that helped humiliate a Bann who liked it when elves cried.

When Erika arrived with a sample of her first “polished” batch of mead for Trevelyan to try, Higgins enlisted her aid to the tell a story of how he and her brother Karl had been tree’d by the teryn’s daughter’s mabari after trying to break into the larder in Highever.

“Wait,” Trevelyan objected, as the story wound down to its conclusion – Karl and Morty building five miles of split-rail fence by themselves, which took them the rest of that summer _and the next one_. “The Teryn of Highever? Teryn Cousland?”

Erika nodded as Higgins grinned. “His daughter being Moira Cousland, and the mabari was named Rufus.”

“ _Queen_ Moira Cousland Theirin, the Hero of Ferelden?” Trevelyan clarified.

While Aillis choked on her drink and Killeen called bullshit, Ringwold leapt to Higgins’ defense. “I met her during the defense of Redcliffe castle. Cullen met her at Kinloch, he was there when she liberated the Circle. Leliana _travelled_ with her. She’s a real person, Trevelyan. And if Higgins grew up in Highever, it’s completely reasonable that he might have met her, too.”

“Met her? She laughed at him for a solid five minutes,” Erika chimed in gleefully.

“That is so unbelievably unfair,” the Inquisitor complained.

“Hero worship? You?” Varric asked, stunned.

“She’s the _Hero of fucking Ferelden!_ The Warden Queen! Arlessa of Amaranthine! She’s a _legend_.”

“And just what are you?” Tamson demanded.

“I’m just some asshole with a glowy hand,” Trevelyan said, laying out her cards as she threw the Angel of Death card – her own visage staring up at her – onto the table. “I’m also the winner of this round.”

“Oh, that was good,” Varric congratulated. “I know _what_ you did, I can guess _how_ you did it _,_ but I didn’t see _when_  it was done.”

“Are you saying the Herald of Andraste cheats at cards?” DeForest asked, trying to subdue his grin for long enough to manage a shocked tone.

Trevelyan accepted a second glass of Erika’s experimental mead with a wink at DeForest. “ _Cheat_ is such a harsh term.”

Higgins swept up the cards to shuffle as Trevelyan gave Erika some – surprisingly helpful – criticism of the brew, and offered to drink the last of the batch, “You know, to free up the carboy so you can get started on another trial.” Erika hurried off, beaming, to bottle up the liquor and deliver it up to the Inquisitor’s rooms.

Trevelyan sat out a hand to quickly write a note to Mahvrin requisitioning as much honey as Erika needed for her experiments.

“How come you ain’t never told a story, Aillis?” Sera asked as Higgins finished dealing and the game resumed.

“Oh, I don’t know any good stories,” Aillis demurred.

Eamon snorted, “Bull _shit_.”

Aillis scowled at him, but it was too late. “Didn’t you say you took templar training with the King of Ferelden _and_ Commander Cullen?” Higgins prompted.

“Oh, fine,” Aillis said, and neatly folded her cards. She launched into the story of how Duncan, the Ferelden Commander of the Grey, had come to the chantry seeking recruits. Alistair, as well as many other templars, competed in a tournament in his honor, auspiciously to win the right to be conscripted into the Wardens. She lauded the achievements of the other templars in the tourney: Ser Eryhn the shield maiden, Ser Kalvin the swordmaster, and Ser Talrew the Chasind slayer. And while Alistair was bested – thoroughly – by those three champions, still it was him that Duncan chose to Join the legendary Blightfighters. While she spoke, her language became more flowing, and she spoke with an almost discernible _tempo_ , as if the story was a part of the Chant itself. 

By the time she wound to a close, the other nine people at the table were staring at her openly.

“Where have you been all my life?” Varric breathed.

“With me,” Eamon answered, ruffling her hair fondly.

“Sing me another one, bluebird,” the dwarf insisted, dropping his cards to the table and leaning back in his chair.

Aillis flushed crimson. “I… I don’t…”

“Yeah, tell us another one,” Sera chimed in.

Higgins managed to hide his smile – almost losing his composure when he met Trevelyan’s amused glance – as Ailis quickly scrambled for another story to tell, now that _Sera_ wanted one.

“I… I mean, they’re all chantry stories, really. I was raised in the chantry, so I… I don’t know any _good_ ones, like Varric.”

“I ain’t heard many chantry stories,” Sera encouraged her.

“Sera, weren’t you-“ Killeen started.

“Shut yer face, Killer,” Sera cut her off.

“Yeah, Aillis is talking,” Varric agreed.

Trevelyan kept the beer flowing and Aillis kept the stories coming. She was in the midst of telling them about the day she first met Cullen, by trying to follow Eamon into the men’s barracks and getting caught, when Trevelyan folded her hand and stood.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve reminded me. I’m leaving early in the morning…”

“I know what yer thinkin’,” Sera said without looking up, “and we all wish ya would stop dancin’ around it. Just _admit_ it already, an' call it good.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed as she frowned at the elf, but she didn’t otherwise respond. Everyone waved goodbye, and the Herald paused long enough to tug gently on Varric’s tiny ponytail on her way out. “Don’t stay up too late,” she chided.

“Yeah, yeah, listening to the bluebird. G’night.”

“What were you talking about?” Killeen asked Sera, leaning close as Aillis took up the threads of her tale.

“She needsta stop tryin’ to hide she’s sleepin’ with Commander JackBoot,” Sera answered absently, not taking her eyes from Aillis. “Here’s hopin’ she just crashes there tonight, ‘stead’a’ pretendin’ she’s sleepin’ up in ‘er tower alone.”

Higgins snorted. “Yeah, and then maybe the Commander will stop locking the door and ruining our patrol routes.”

“Ew, you’d go thru while he and Ev are-“

“As long as they’re upstairs,” Higgins interrupted, “I don’t care.”

Sera waved him off with a shiver and a grossed-out giggle before turning her attention fully back to Aillis and the game.


	49. The Commander's Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's battle against lyrium withdrawals becomes serious.  
> I cried as I wrote this.  
> These next few chapters broke me.  
> I decided I was giving up this story and writing about puppies and flowers.  
> Zombolouge set me straight. You can send her kudos in thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, something about me drinking makes me want to post chapters. I assume y'all don't mind.

The third day after the Inquisitor left, Higgins awoke, _again_ , to Aillis gently shaking him and calling his name.

“I have Fourth tonight, Aillis,” he complained.

“You don’t say. I’ve got First, genius. Wake up.”

“Why,” he whined, drawing out the vowel.

“Commander’s health took a turn.”

Higgins sat bolt upright. “What?”

“I needed to warn you. We figured the word was best spread by templars. He’s not in any immediate danger; at least, no more than he’s always been in. But he’s always worse when Trevelyan’s gone and he’s _bad_ now.”

“Bad how?”

“Headaches, as always. But they’re to the point now that he blanks out for long minutes at a time. He might not be noticing it, even. He’ll just stop talking and freeze, and then after awhile shake out of it and keep going. Solas is here, thank the Maker, and he says they’re a kind of minor seizure. Vivienne’s watching him like a hawk.”

“So what do we do?”

“Absolutely everything we can to lighten his workload. Don’t let anything upset him. And he’s not to be left alone – he’s not sleeping, so that’s not a problem, but somebody needs to have eyes on him constantly.”

“So, round-the-clock runners?”

“That’s what Eamon said,” Aillis concurred with a smile. “Eamon and Tamson are working on talking him into it. It’s not taking much, the Commander knows he’s in trouble.”

“Thanks for the head’s up,” Higgins told her, genuinely appreciative.

“All soldiers are to be told by a _templar_ , so they can ask questions if need be. Me and about ten of my company are making the rounds through Killer’s unit. I wouldn’t let anybody else break this to you, Nuggins.”

“Has somebody written the Inquisitor?”

Aillis nodded. “Cullen is writing her daily. The same system they used while she was in the Western Approach, the specially marked tubes, remember?”

“Good,” Higgins said, nodding.

“You should plan to get up there early,” she said as she stood to leave. “We’re planning broader overlaps between watches.”

“Yes, ser.”

He was an hour early to his watch, reporting in before the kitchen started serving dinner at Third Bell. He popped into Cullen’s office and found the Commander gone – at a meeting in the war room, he was told – and took the time to make sure all of Killeen’s soldiers knew Cullen was in rough shape.

“Aillis told us, ser,” Elliot said. She was young, blond, and Fereldan – a taller, quieter Killeen, really – and she hadn’t spoken a word to Higgins since she’d deflected an arrow into his face at the gates of Adamant.

Higgins sighed. “Don’t _ser_ me, Elliot.”

“I’m sorry, ser,” she stuttered. Her eyes never left the thin scar on his cheek.

Higgins sighed again – he’d forgiven her half a dozen times already – and headed back to the Commander’s office.

“Don’t you usually patrol the ramparts on Fourth and First?” Cullen asked as Higgins let himself in.

“Yes, ser,” Higgins answered easily.

“So I am to have a _runner_ at all times, like Eamon insisted.” the Commander said with a twist of his mouth.

“Apparently, ser. I’m just following orders.”

Cullen looked up at him, frowning for so long Higgins started to worry the man had seized again. “I understand Eamon’s argument,” the Commander said at length, still not altering his expression, “but I believe I’ve thought of a better plan.”

“Ser?”

“I’m going to temporarily remove you from Killeen’s unit, Higgins, and reassign you.”

“Reassign me where, ser?”

“Here. I’ll take a _runner_ during Second and Third, as that’s when the Keep is awake and I have the most need. But overnight, you’re to be stationed here, rather than whoever gets assigned as my _runner_ from whatever company is on duty.”

Higgins was essentially being given permanent 12-hour overnight shifts. If he didn’t know what was happening to the Commander, he might have taken it as a grievous insult.

“Shall I call in Killeen, ser?”

Cullen’s frown twisted into a sly smile. “No questions? No argument?”

“If you remove me from Killeen’s service, ser, that would make you my direct superior, would it not?”

Cullen nodded.

“At that point in time, ser, my questions would be more appropriate.”

Cullen barked a laugh. “Fair enough. Get Killer in here.”

Higgins couldn’t remember the Commander ever using one of Varric’s nicknames, and Higgins couldn’t stifle the smile as he turned and popped open the door.

Crews was standing outside. “Run and fetch Killer, please, Crews?”

“Sure thing, Nuggins,” the bulky ‘Marcher replied, jogging off with a surprising ease.

Killeen appeared with alacrity, and was _not_ pleased by Cullen’s decision.

“You can’t just steal my second,” Killeen argued.

Cullen smiled at her weakly. “I can, and I did. You’ll get him back.”

“Why Higgins?”

“Because I said so,” the Commander replied. “You’re free to return to your duties. I do not require a runner overnight. I will notify Eamon in the morning.”

Killeen, her scowl a thundercloud, slammed the door on her way out.

“Higgins, you are hereby answering to me and me alone. Pull up a chair.”

“Permission to speak freely, ser,” Higgins requested as he dragged a heavy chair over to the side of Cullen’s desk.

“Granted.”

“Why me?”

Cullen sighed. “This might kill me, Higgins. You know that, right?”

Higgins closed his eyes for a moment before answering. “I know that, ser.”

“I have… things… that need done should that happen. Things that I don’t want to argue about. Things that Killeen… that any of my officers, honestly, would argue with me over. I need one person I can put these tasks to, and I’ve chosen you.”

“Again, ser,” Higgins prodded when Cullen fell silent. “Why me?”

“A lot of reasons,” Cullen replied, speaking slowly. “Evelyn trusts you. Loves you, even. That means more to me than you might think. I _know_ you, know you are fully capable of handling the tasks I need done. I know your ethics, your morals, your hatred of _gossip_. I know that you are willing to break a man’s face for nothing more than Evelyn’s honor, and I know you ducked promotion _twice_ so that you could support your Lieutenant when she was endangered.”

Higgins tried to argue that last point, but as he thought about it, he knew the Commander was right. He had refused to step away from Killeen after Haven, argued that his place was at her side. She’d said, once, that his standing by her had probably saved her life since Brown had died, and that was likely the literal truth, once the demon in her nightmares was factored in.

“Aside from that, or maybe because of it... one of the – _symptoms_ , I suppose – that I’m contending with is intense, violent paranoia. I saw… _terrible_ things in Kinloch, in Kirkwall. Things that made the carnage at the Temple of Sacred Ashes pale in comparison. I am losing the ability to recognize those images as memory. If that grips me, I might… attack… whoever is near me. You’ve been training with _the Iron Bull_ , Higgins; you are rather uniquely qualified to defend yourself against me should that come to pass. And the fewer people who know about this, the better.”

“If I may ask, ser,” Higgins ventured when the Commander again fell silent, “why only requisition me for the night? I am more than willing to post myself here around the clock-“

“Thank you,” Cullen said, quickly cutting him off, “But it may be weeks yet. I fully intend to hold out until Evelyn returns from the Hissing Wastes. That is too long for you to go without sleep, especially with what I will need of you.”

“During the day, then, ser. Chose a second person to stay with you during the day, and we’ll chase off the other runners.”

Cullen smiled at him gratefully. “That my honor gets the same treatment as Evelyn’s is a welcome thought. Thank you. I suspect my Captains will stalk me during the day, however, as will Roz and Ringwold. I should have no problem _chasing off the runners_ during Second and Third Watch.”

“Fair enough,” Higgins granted, nodding. “What, then, will you want me to do?”

“First, don’t let me _hurt_ anyone,” Cullen said, face reddening.

“No worries there, ser.”

Cullen roughly rubbed his face and neck before continuing. “I have letters… should I fall, they will need to be delivered. Leliana will probably insist on reading them, especially given you _owe her a favor_. I’d love to get the explanation for _that_ , one of these nights. There is one for Evelyn, that must be sent as soon as I… am no longer able to write her every day, for whatever reason. There is one for my family, in South Reach, to be sent upon my death. And I have written a… a will, and had it signed and kept by Josephine. A copy of it is here, as well. That will need to be retrieved and kept safe until the Inquisitor returns.”

Higgins nodded slowly. “I can do that, ser. What else?”

“If I manage to sleep,” Cullen tried to laugh at himself, and it narrowly avoided sounding like a sob, “I will likely wake up disoriented. I will need to be _re_ oriented, and perhaps roughly.”

“You mean I might have to slap you awake, ser?”

Cullen managed a stronger laugh. “Precisely so.”

“I might enjoy that, ser.”

“I’m counting on it, Higgins,” Cullen laughed again, almost sounding normal.

 

*

 

On his fourth night as Cullen’s personal man-at-arms, as Killeen had taken to calling him, Higgins helped Cullen pack up his personal items. “Evelyn wants me to move up to her quarters when she gets back,” he told Higgins as they looked around the top-floor bedroom Cullen had claimed for his own. “I suppose, if I don’t survive this, it will be easier to clean things up if I sort them ahead of time.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, ser,” Higgins said, consciously echoing what he’s said to DeForest after Adamant. “Pessimistic as all get out, but very thoughtful.”

Cullen chuckled darkly. “It’s the right choice either way. I’ll either have an easier time moving upstairs, or… or somebody else will have an easier time moving on.”

“You can’t leave this for Evelyn,” Higgins said, taking a chance at using the Inquisitor’s given name.

“No, I can’t,” Cullen agreed. “And I won’t. It’s all sorted in my will. Josephine witnessed it, and Leliana is the executor. Evelyn won’t have to touch any of it, I couldn’t do that to her.”

Their conversation was paused for a few minutes as Cullen suddenly stared through Higgins, his seizures coming more frequently now. One of his hands had a definite tremble when the spells took him.

“Should we go ahead and sort everything into where it will go _just in case_?” Higgins asked when Cullen shook his head lightly and seemed to return to the present.

“Yes, we should,” Cullen agreed, and dragged over a box. “This will be my books and chess set, for Dorian. That box will hold everything for South Reach. I’ll need a few other boxes for things to be given to the Inquisition proper, which is what should be done with my arms and armor as well. And one last for Evelyn.”

“Alright,” Higgins agreed, remembering the mountain of crates Killeen had sorted from the Haven excavation, and Krem’s help at going through the box labeled C12. “You tell me what goes where, ser, and I’ll do all the packing and moving.”

“Thank you, Higgins,” Cullen said softly. He pulled a book from the shelf. “For Dorian," he said, handing Higgins the tome.


	50. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Higgins leans on Killeen.

By the end of the second week, Cullen was sleeping no more than an hour at a time, and needing to be “reoriented” each time he awoke.

“Cullen! You’re in Skyhold, you were _dreaming_ , it’s okay. Cullen!”

It was taking longer each time, but eventually the Commander would blink, recognize Higgins, blink again, and resume his normal affect. “Higgins. Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, ser. Good morning. It is midway through First Watch.”

“And I remember hearing Fourth Bell,” Cullen sighed, rubbing his face. “Am I at least sleeping soundly?”

“Like a board, until you wake up. You come up fast when you do,” Higgins informed him.

“Well, since I'm awake, I’m going to get started. We both know I won’t get back to sleep today.”

“Yes, ser. Want me to send for some coffee?”

“If there’s any to be had, yes. Yes, that would be very helpful.”

Josephine had stopped Higgins two days before and passed him a note as he left the Commander’s office at First bell. It had been very simply written: _I have obtained a supply of fine Antivan coffee for the Commander._ Higgins hadn’t had the chance to offer it before now – the Commander had fallen asleep later, woken at First bell, and been content with a tray being sent up from the kitchens. The kitchens wouldn’t be opened for hours, yet, so something else would need to suffice.

Higgins scrawled a quick note to the Ambassador and stuck his head out the door. He didn’t know the runner’s name, but recognized her as one of Baudin’s soldiers. “Good morning,” he said carefully, expecting the woman to startle.

She looked at him sideways over her shoulder. “Higgins. What do you need?”

“Good nerves. What’s your name?”

She smiled. “LaFontaine,” she answered.

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, LaFontaine, but I need you to wake up Ambassador Montilyet and give her this missive. _Please_ assure her that it is time-sensitive but not critical nor bearing ill news.”

The Orlesian nodded, taking the folded paper and striding away without another word.

The coffee arrived in fifteen minutes, flat. LaFontaine tapped on the door and brought the tray in without waiting for the call to enter. “Lady Montilyet was already awake, ser. She thanked you for giving her the opportunity to be of assistance.”

“Thank you,” Higgins said, taking the tray from her. She slipped back out the door while Higgins carried the tray to Cullen’s desk. The Commander made his way down the ladder a few minutes later, armor buckled precisely into place.

“That smells heavenly,” Cullen breathed, settling himself at his desk. “There are two cups here, Higgins, and plenty for us both.”

“Thank you, ser, but bedtime for me is in a few hours. I’m better off without.”

Cullen smiled apologetically. “How is this schedule working for you?”

“I’m sleeping through a lot of meals,” Higgins admitted, “but that just makes the head cook pity me. I think I’ve put on half a stone already from all the meat pies and sweet rolls she’s been leaving at my tent.”

The statement pulled a weak laugh out of the Commander. “A cook’s pity is the best to have, by far.”

“Absolutely, ser.”

Higgins fell silent as Cullen savored the coffee. “Someone scrounged up a cup of coffee for me in Haven, when the Temple fell,” he said softly, “Killeen brought it to me, on the causeway. We were planning the retreat. You and Glennon were asleep about ten paces away, curled up like a pair of mabari in a corner. I had just finished when Leliana came to tell me the Herald was awake – she was just _the prisoner_ then – and that she was systematically closing the rifts.”

“Killeen woke me up,” Higgins told him, remembering the day. “I asked her if we were sounding the retreat, and she said no. Told me we were making one last push.”

“You woke up Glennon,” Cullen took over the narrative. “I will never forget that moment. You actually said _great news_ when you woke him up. As if you were honestly happy to be making a suicidal push up the mountain.”

“I wasn’t happy to be suiciding,” Higgins disagreed, laughing lightly. “I didn’t see it as suicide, anyways. Suicide implies a lack of hope. What we had was the exact opposite. We had just been _given_ hope. I didn’t know whether or not I’d still have to sell myself to get it, but after what we’d seen, _any_ chance to seal the Breach was great news. I won’t say I wasn’t being sarcastic as all get-out at the time, but that’s just the way Glennon and I were.”

“Glennon felt the same as you? He said something to the tune of _fantastic, lead the way_.”

“I think that’s exactly what he said,” Higgins laughed again. “And, yes, he thought the same. _One last push_ meant we had something to fight for. If we wanted to save the civilians, retreat was our better option, pulling the mountain down behind us on the way out to slow the demons and give people a chance to run. Pushing _up_ meant something had changed, there was something else to fight for. And there was. The Herald saved us.”

Cullen tipped his head into his hands, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. “I’ve lost that. I feel like I’m trapped in a retreat. I feel like a _last push_ would be nothing but a blaze of glory to go out on, and I just don’t have it in me.”

Higgins hesitated only a moment before placing a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “You need to write the Inquisitor, ser. She needs to hear from you.”

Cullen’s shoulders shook with a soundless laugh. “Yes. Yes, she does. Thank you, Higgins.”

The missive was done in minutes, and Higgins waited until the Bell rang First before taking it to the ravencote, Eamon and Tamson walking into the office as Higgins walked out. It was his routine: take Cullen’s letter to the Spymaster at First Bell, grab breakfast from the kitchen, and walk out to the encampment to sleep.

If Baudin was on First Watch, Killeen would be taking over for Second, Higgins considered as he crossed the causeway into the main body of the keep. He would stop off and check in with Killer before leaving the keep for the day.

“What does this one say?” Leliana asked as Higgins reached the top of the stairs. She was the only one present in the ravencote – Higgins would only allow Cullen's missives to be read if Leliana was alone. Higgins hated to let  _anyone_ read the Commander's letters to the Inquisitor, but Cullen had approved it, and Leliana had agreed that Higgins' debt to her would be cleared when Trevelyan returned from the 'Wastes. Higgins comforted himself with the knowledge that Josephine and Leliana wouldn't bother Cullen in his office for so long as Leliana could keep tabs on him via his letters to the Herald.

Rather than answer her question, Higgins handed her the missive and the tube, letting her read it before she sealed it and sent it off.

_E,_

_I haven’t mentioned this before, but I’ve requisitioned Higgins to watch me overnight. It has brought me far more peace than I anticipated. I cannot see him without thinking of you, of Haven, of the night you bought everyone in the tavern a drink. Of you being carried into Aieyla’s wedding on his shoulders. Of you being carried into Haven_ over _his shoulder. Of your breath in his lungs._

 _His ability to ground me in reality when I am trapped in dreams and help me plan when I am awake is invaluable._ _He is the symbol of everything the Inquisition – and its Inquisitor – have accomplished._

_He gives me hope._

_C_

 

Higgins fought for a solid minute to control the tears in his eyes before deciding there was no shame in them. Leliana could mock him if she wanted.

The look in her eyes told him mockery was the _last_ thing on her mind. “The ages are all wrong, I know,” she whispered as she rolled the scrap of paper up tight and sealed it in a carefully patterned tube. “But you may be the closest thing to a son Cullen ever has.”

“Please,” Higgins begged, his voice a pained rasp. “Please don’t. I can’t hear that. Not right now. Not while he’s…”

Leliana gently cupped his cheek with her hand. “He won’t say it. Never to you. But he knows you’re reading these, Morthoven Higgins. He wants you to know.”

Leliana turned away, sealing another missive into a different tube and attaching them to the legs of a raven. Higgins stumbled down the stairs and out of the keep, aiming straight for Killeen.

“I know you’re on duty, Lieut,” he said as he came up behind her. “I know you’re working triple time with Eamon and Tamson, and I know you’ve got your hands full...”

“You look _awful_ ,” she breathed. “Come with me.” She turned away and lifted her voice. “Weaver! You’ve got the gate for the next thirty!”

“Yes, ser!” the former man-at-arms called back.

Killeen hauled Higgins into the keep and down into the dusty hidden library in the lower levels, where he’d once hidden from the Commander with Dorian.

“Talk.”

Higgins shook his head. “I can’t. I… can’t. I need you to… I don’t know. Distract me? Give me something else to think about. Anything else. Even if it’s terrible. I just… can’t fall asleep with this in my head. Not today.”

“Maker… alright. What do you want to hear?”

Higgins shook his head aimlessly. “I can’t think.”

Killeen sighed. “Alright. Sit down, give me a second.”

Higgins cast himself into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

“When I was in Val Royeaux, I said something to you that I regret. You were harassing me about my tent being nasty, and I wrote you back something snarky about not having a mother or sisters. And it wasn’t completely true.”

“Alright,” Higgins said slowly. “This is distracting, so thank you. But we never ask about anybody’s families, Killer. It’s like some kind of damn rule, I don’t know. You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want.”

“My mom was sick,” Killeen continued as if Higgins hadn’t spoken. “She was always sick. I had a passel of brothers and then me and my dad. Six men, sick mom, me. Wet socks were about the least of our concerns. When I was… oh, ten or so, the brother nearest to me in age – Ivan – got sick. Same thing my mom had, more or less. Healer had some name for it, I never cared. Kids from the village started picking on him and I picked back. I started fighting and I never stopped. I went to work for a Revered Mother, when the templars went crazy and walked out, helping her stay safe and keep order. She heard about the Conclave, and sent me to Haven.”

“Did she go to the Conclave herself?” Higgins asked.

“Yes.”

“Sorry, Killer.”

“Me too.”

Higgins sighed. “Your mom ever get better?”

“She died. Six months after Ivan did. Dad followed her. My oldest brother’s got the land now, just outside West Hill.”

They were quiet for a moment, Killeen lost in thought, Higgins at a loss for words.

“Go to bed, Nuggins. You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Killer. See you tomorrow.”

 

*

 

“I’m sorry,” Cullen told him the next night.

“What makes you say that, ser?”

“I’m making you watch me die.”

Higgins had to work to unclench his jaw. “I remain unconvinced of that, ser. I’ve seen men die before, and you’re looking pretty good to me still.”

Cullen laughed, his voice husky from the most recent nightmare, when he’d screamed himself awake after only twenty minutes asleep. “I will continue to trust your judgment, then.”

“You do that, ser.”

They were working on contingency plans; Cullen anticipated that the target Morrigan eventually identified would require military action, and they knew Corypheus had been headed into the Dales. There were maps draped all over the desk, scale representations of all the different areas within the region, and Cullen was determining how each area would best be attacked. Higgins was watching the way Cullen’s mind worked, marveling at the tactics he had stored there.

It made his frequent seizures all the more devastating.

“It will most likely be somewhere within the Emerald…” he was saying when he trailed off for the last time.

Higgins waited as the minutes stretched. When both of Cullen’s arms started trembling like he was palsied, the soldier began to worry. When Cullen suddenly pitched towards the floor, Higgins dove to catch him.

“Higgins,” Cullen breathed, coming back to consciousness a moment later. “Call Bull.”

It was the sign they’d agreed on. His heart in his mouth, Higgins lowered Cullen gently to the flagstones and leapt for the door.

Killeen herself was standing watch outside.

“Killer,” Higgins cried. “Killer, _run_. Go get Bull. Tell him…” He stopped and swallowed. “Tell him Cullen’s fallen.”

Killeen’s eyes immediately welled with tears, and she pushed off the wall in a dead sprint. Higgins swung shut the door and slid across the floor on his knees to Cullen’s side.

“Letter… to Evelyn…” the Commander whispered.

“I already moved it,” Higgins told him. “I’ve hidden it in the library, in case I wasn’t here. I will take it to Leliana as soon as Bull gets here, it will be on the bird as soon as the sun rises.”

“Higgins.”

“Ser?”

“Take the fucking promotion.”

Higgins coughed a laugh, cognizant of the tears streaming down his face. “I will, ser. I will. You can pin the damn stripes on me yourself when you get better.”

“Nobody… survives this, Higgins.”

“Try telling that to Evelyn when she gets back.”

Cullen’s face went blank. Just then, the door burst open and the Bull was there. Higgins skidded to one side and the qunari knelt down beside the Commander.

“Not dead,” Higgins told him quickly. “He had a long seizure and then pitched to the floor. He was talking to me a moment ago. He’s having another one now.”

The Bull didn’t answer, leaning down to gather up the Commander into his arms and then rising to his feet to stride out of the room.

As the qunari left – he could be heard yelling at Solas after kicking open the door on the far side of the causeway – a sound drew Higgins’ eye. Killeen was standing at the doorway.

Her face was a perfect mirror to the way Higgins felt.

Higgins slumped off his knees to land heavily on his ass, and put his arms out to Killeen. His Lieutenant, his best friend, took three steps and collapsed at his side.

Higgins needed to go to the library and get Cullen’s letter for the Inquisitor. He needed to find Eamon and Tamson and tell them the Commander had fallen. He needed to get Killeen moving, as she was on Watch and completely responsible for the safety of the keep for the time being. If anyone was going to attack from within, the moment would be now.

But Higgins did none of those things.

He sat on the chilled flagstones of the Commander’s suddenly vacant office, he held his friend, and he cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your tiny taste of what it's like to be a Hospice nurse. I write what I know.


	51. The Rock To Which I Cling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through blinding mist, I climb  
> A sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base  
> Endlessly far beneath my feet.  
> The Maker is the rock to which I cling.  
> (Trials 1:12)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW WITH ART from the incredible [Chanterie](http://chanterie.tumblr.com/).

It was dreamlike, walking through the keep.

The Bells were chiming First, but against the frenzied movement inside Skyhold, it was reminiscent of the alarm bells of Haven when the Venatori descended.

People were swirling around him as Higgins passed through Solas’ antechamber and up the stairs. Dorian was flying down the steps four at a time, shouting something as they crossed paths. He met Vivienne at the landing, and sucked against the wall as she swept around him and disappeared behind Dorian.

The library was empty but for the tranquil, who seemed to never sleep. Higgins moved woodenly to the shelf where he’d hidden Cullen’s letter to Evelyn nearly a week before. _Qunari Prayers for the Dead_ was written across the spine; it was the dustiest tome he could find on the shelf he’d chosen. It had seemed fitting at the time; now it was heart-rending. The tiny paper the missive was written on was tucked inside the title page, and he retrieved it gently and read it as he walked up the stairs.

_E,_

_If you are reading this, it is because I am unable to write to you. The poison has drawn from my veins; I have gained my freedom, though I cannot yet see at what cost._

_You are doubtless in contact with Lana. You are not, under any circumstances, to step away from your work._

_You do not need to be here for me to know you are beside me in this, as in all things._

_Know I love you, that I have loved you from the first day we stood across the map table, though I did not yet know what I had found. You have made every moment of this worthwhile, justified and validated my battle, granted me sweet reprieve and a completely new appreciation of the Chant._

_Keep yourself safe._

_-C_

 

There was no one in the ravencote.

No one except Leliana.

“Is he dead?” she breathed, tears standing in her eyes.

“He thinks he is dying,” Higgins answered, not caring how broken his voice was. “He seized, the worst yet, and then collapsed. I caught him as he fell. He told me to call for Bull. Killeen was at the door; she ran. Bull brought him here. I think they went up to the Inquisitor’s quarters. They wouldn’t have done that if he was dead.”

“You’re right,” she said, nodding. “They would have brought him here, or down into the undercroft. Somewhere controlled, still, but putting his body in Ev’s room would be heartless.”

“He wrote this,” Higgins said, handing her the missive. “It needs to go to Knuckles.”

Leliana hissed as she read it. “I cannot send her _this_.”

“Then I will. I promised him, Leliana.”

She looked up at his use of her name. “Very well.” She rolled up the scrap of paper and tucked it into a tube sealed to Evelyn’s eyes and scratched a date into the wax. “Hold onto it for now. I need to go verify with Solas before I send her anything else.”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins said, and sat himself in her chair at her desk. He was going nowhere until Cullen’s letter to the Inquisitor was in the air.

Leliana was back within thirty minutes, her eyes bloodshot but her demeanor collected.

“The last of the lyrium is gone from his body,” she told Higgins as she whipped out a quill and started writing in a tiny, neat hand. “What we need is Cassandra, but she is with the Inquisitor in the Hissing Wastes.”

“How long will it take them to return?” Higgins asked, as Leliana sealed her missive in a tube and whistled for a bird.

She tied the sealed tubes to the raven’s legs and threw it into the air before meeting Higgins’ gaze.

“Too long,” she said.

 

*

 

Higgins went back to his tent and slept the day away, as had become his habit. He rose before Third Bell and walked wearily into the keep. A few soldiers saw him and called out, but he waved them off.

He had no heart to speak of what he’d seen.

He picked up a meal at the kitchen, but it tasted like ashes on his tongue. He ate it anyways, remembering the midnight soup he’d had with Glennon and Varric after surviving the Conclave.

He didn’t want to put Cullen’s body on the pyre, but he’d be _damned_ before letting anyone else do it.

There were four Chargers standing at the stairwell leading up to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Grim recognized Higgins and pushed the door open for him without bothering with a challenge. If Higgins really wanted by, they would let him.

The stairs up were endless on this night.

The door at the top was locked, but Krem cracked it open when Higgins knocked.

“What’s the news, Nuggins?”

“Reporting for duty, ser.”

Krem didn’t respond, merely lifting an eyebrow and waiting.

“The Commander did not relieve me from duty. I am to watch him from Third Bell to First. I would beg you to let me fulfill his request.”

Krem’s face fell, and he quickly opened the door and stood aside to let Higgins past.

Solas and the Iron Bull were in the room. They must have heard what Higgins had said, because they were watching him with equally distraught expressions. Higgins crossed the room wordlessly and picked up a book from the Inquisitor’s desk.

We walked back across the room to where Cullen was laid out in the Inquisitor’s bed, covered in sweat but otherwise looking like a man asleep.

Higgins dragged over one of the chairs that had been brought up and were strewn across the room, setting up next to the bed and sitting down beside the Commander. He toed out of his boots and lifted his feet onto the edge of the bed, kicking one ankle across the other.

“Chapter One,” he said, flipping open the cover of the book. “They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown market at midnight might disagree. The pickpockets and confidence men head to the taverns at dusk, the dwarven businessmen and nobles go back to their tiny palaces to fret over the ways they got cheated, and the market falls silent.”

“Is he reading _Hard in Hightown_?” the Bull asked, shocked.

“Shush,” Solas chided, and padded across the room to Evelyn’s desk. He started laying out his own tomes and supplies, carefully stacking up the novels he found and bringing them across the room to sit in a pile on the floor beside Higgins’ chair.

Higgins worked his way through the stack of books, picking up each night where he’d left off the morning before. By First Bell every day his voice was raspy and rough, and Solas soundlessly handed him a draught for his throat on his way out the door. He would collapse into his cot and sleep, grateful that the Commander had survived _one more day_ , and praying that the black banners wouldn’t meet him when he woke.

On the fourth night, he arrived at the top of the stairs to find Cullen’s hands reaching out to wrap around Mahvrin’s neck. Bull was coming in off the balcony and Krem was just rising up out of the chair – Higgins charged up the stairs and got to the Commander first.

“Cullen!” he said, getting his fingers between Cullen’s hands and Mahvrin’s skin. The elf was fair and bruised easily, but Higgins was able to hold the Commander's hands open and let the Steward escape with minimal damage. Higgins made fists with his hands and let the Commander’s still-strong grip grind his bones together. “Cullen, you’re dreaming! You’re dreaming! Relax! Go back to sleep! You need rest.”

“Rest,” Cullen said, hands slowly relaxing.

“Yes,” Higgins breathed, flexing his hands as Cullen slid backwards onto the pillow. “You need your rest. Evelyn is coming.”

“Rest at the Maker’s right hand,” Cullen whispered, “And be forgiven.”

Higgins was temporarily at a loss. “No,” he said, sitting on the side of the bed and putting a hand to Cullen’s shoulder. “No, not that kind of rest. Just sleep, Cullen. Sleep until Evelyn comes back.”

“I cannot see the path,” Cullen muttered. “Perhaps there is only abyss. Trembling, I step forward, in darkness enveloped.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” Higgins hissed, shaking his Commander’s shoulder. “You stay the fuck out of that darkness.”

“Rest at the Maker’s right hand, and be forgiven,” the Commander repeated, and fell backwards into sleep.

Higgins scrubbed at his face. “Well _that_ fucking backfired.” He stood and turned to address the others in the room. “Mahvrin, are you alright?”

“I am, thanks to you,” the Steward replied, a bit shamefaced. “He has reacted strongly to the health potions in the past, I should have been more alert.”

Higgins shook his head. “Maybe you guys should bind him, if I’m not here.”

The Bull went to say something, but Higgins held up a hand. “He’s calm when I’m reading to him. I don’t have any other obligations… the rest of you do. I will keep him calm at night, you keep him secured during the day. He made me promise I wouldn’t let him hurt anyone. You have to keep that promise for me when I’m not here.”

Krem nodded, saying “We can do that, Nuggins,” before anyone else had a chance to reply. “Mahvrin, you should have Solas check that out when he gets back.”

The Iron Bull and his Lieutenant left for the night as Higgins pulled over his chair and grabbed the book on the top of the to-be-read stack. “In a time only the Stone remembers, a warrior named Gason won honor and glory for his house. He won a dozen Provings and defended his thaig against a legion of darkspawn. But though he was bold, Gason was also selfish and unkind, with a temper like spitting magma. He would rant and rage, mock and malign, until eventually Gason’s friends turned their backs on him, his house crumbled, and he was cast into the Deep Roads.”

Cullen relaxed deeper into the bed, his countenance smoothing as the fight drained out of his limbs. He muttered under his breath, just low enough to be inaudible, but with the unmistakable tempo and inflection of the Chant.

Higgins focused on the words on the page in front of him, and tried to ignore the dread settling into his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Higgins read from "Hard in Hightown" (from the DA:I codex entry) and "How the Deepstalker Came to Be," from WOT V2 (p 209)  
> Fun fact: the name of that second book was likely "Songs That Only Nugs Can Hear."


	52. Relieved of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Trevelyan says exactly what we've all wanted to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever been so relieved about something, that everything in the world is *hilarious*?

On the sixth night, he was woken up a few minutes early by a sobbing Aillis.

“She’s back,” the Knight-Lieutenant said, dropping bonelessly onto Higgins’ cot. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from sliding onto the floor. “She’s back, alone, on that damn creepy-ass possessed horse.”

“Knuckles? Are you saying Knuckles is back?”

AIllis nodded against the tears. “She said the… the _bog unicorn_ made the run from the Hissing Wastes in two days. She went straight up to the Commander. Killeen met her at the gates.”

Higgins hugged Aillis close and then pushed her onto her feet, crawling out of the warmth of his bed.

“Cullen’s still alive?” he asked as he dressed quickly.

“The Herald said she’d send word. I left before we got it. I came straight here.”

“Are the banners hung?”

Aillis shook her head.

Higgins felt tears spring into his eyes again, but for the first time in weeks they weren’t from heartbreak. “He’s done it. Can’t you see? He held out until she made it home.”

Aillis was still shaking her head, despondant. “She got back in time to watch him die. Higgins, it’s awful.”

He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “No! No, Aillis, _she’s the Herald_. She breathed me back to life, she walked out of the _Fade_ , she won’t let him die. She will bring him back! All he had to do was survive until she got here, and _he did_.”

“How can you think that?” Aillis sobbed. “You were there when he _fell_.”

“I was there when she rose,” he answered, and left the tent at a run.

Killeen was in the main hall when Higgins slid to a stop beside her.

She had the same dopey grin as Higgins knew was plastered on his own face.

“Mahvrin and Krem just came down, told me that _the Commander yet breathes_. Solas is guarding the door at the top, Knuckles has some kind of plan.”

“Of course she has a plan!” Higgins whispered, comically loud.

Killeen’s grin broadened. “Are we idiots? I felt like I was insane until you got here. Everybody is waiting for the banners to unfurl, as if he was only holding out until she got here.”

“Aillis woke me up crying,” Higgins informed her with a smile that was becoming increasingly painful to his taxed jaw. “I feel like I can breathe for the first time in weeks.”

“You and me, Nuggins, we got this shit figured out,” she said happily, bumping shoulders with him.

Higgins slipped through the door to sit at the bottom of the stairs, determined to be the first to hear news, and offer his services for when the Inquisitor inevitably came down to spread the word of her success. Killeen sat on the other side of the door, to keep the nosier inhabitants of Skyhold at bay.

It was hours – long, painful hours – before Evelyn came padding down the stairs. She looked haggard but hopeful, wearing the ivory jacket and pants she normally wore in the keep. She was barefoot, her hair matted with sweat, and her eyes lit up when she saw Higgins.

“Welcome home, ser,” he whispered.

She bounced down the last few steps and launched into his arms. “He hasn’t woken up yet,” she breathed against his shoulder, “but he’s given up the repeated requests for Forgiveness and is muttering of Endurance in his sleep. Solas says his fever is broken and his heart has evened. He said it never too soon to hope.”

“As soon I heard you were here, I knew we had hope. How did you get back so fast?”

“That damn horse,” Evelyn laughed, as Higgins set her down on the step. “He needs no food, no rest. He stood over me as I napped and then we were off again. He is as fast as a raven. If I hadn’t needed sleep we might have beaten the birds here.”

“What can I do?”

“I need to wake up Aieyla. I’m half-starved and filthy. As of yet, there’s no news to spread.”

“Alright,” Higgins breathed, quickly squeezing one more hug out of the Inquisitor, which she gladly returned. “Welcome home.”

“You said that,” she laughed. “But thank you.”

Aieyla was still awake, and she insisted on Higgins camping out in her office rather than sitting on the cold stone of the stairs.

When Evelyn came down the stairs again, a hour or so later, still damp from her bath and wearing a – frankly, adorable – pair of plaidweave pajamas, Higgins and Mahvrin were speaking quietly about the goings-on in the keep that Higgins had missed while he was nocturnal.

“He’s awake,” the Inquisitor announced as she burst through the door. “I’m so sorry to keep you awake, but _he’s awake_ and he’s _hungry_ and he needs a bath and the sheets need changed and oh, _Aieyla_ ,” she cried, collapsing into the elf’s arms. Higgins surged to his feet and raced to the door to the main hall.

“Killer,” he whispered as he cracked open the heavy oak panel.

“On duty,” Krem’s voice answered. The door was pulled open and the Charger Lieutenant cocked an eyebrow at his friend.

“Thanks,” Higgins said, and darted through the hall.

“Hey!” Krem complained. Evelyn’s laugh ghosting out of the stairwell alleviated any guilt Higgins might have felt for leaving the Tevinter in the dark. Within moments, he could hear Krem’s footsteps following him towards the door at a dead run.

Higgins went left, into the lower courtyard where he knew he’d find Killeen. Behind him, Krem hauled right, into the Herald’s Rest, to pass the news to the Bull and anyone else who might be awake.

The cheer that went up in the tavern as Higgins skidded to a stop at Killeen’s side was all the more she needed to know, and a broad smile split her face. “Fuck _yes_ I love being right!” She hooted, wrapping her arms around Higgins, who lifted her up and swung her around in a tight hug.

“I’m going out to find Aillis,” Higgins told her after setting her down. “Evelyn’s sending Aieyla for a change of linens and bathwater, so they’re likely awake for awhile. Go up while you can.”

Killeen looked up at the Commander’s office, the darkened windows signifying something else entirely now. “I’ll have Crews and a couple of the others haul those boxes you packed up there. That should give them the right message.”

Higgins raced out the gates and across the long causeway, darting through the darkened encampment. It was well after midnight; the quietest time in the encampment, as only those on duty were ever awake in the small hours of the morning.

“Aillis,” he whispered harshly as he tumbled into her tent, scaring her awake. “Aillis, _wake up_.”

“What? What? Oh, Void take you, couldn’t you wait until dawn to tell me he’d died?”

“He’s awake, you short-sighted ass,” Higgins crowed. “Evelyn’s got Aieyla hopping for fresh linens and bathwater. Killeen’s having his boxes carted up, since he said he was going to move up there when she got back. He’s _alive_ and he’s going to _stay that way_.”

Aillis’ eyes spilled over with tears. “For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. Oh, Higgins, I was a fool. You said she would save him and I _doubted_ her. After everything…”

“I promise you, she won’t give two tin shits,” Higgins happily reassured her, reaching out to brush away her tears with his thumb. “She would forgive you anything right now, she’s as happy and relieved as any of the rest of us.”

“But you. You never doubted her,” she smiled weakly through her tears, reaching up to press his palm against her cheek.

“Not for one red second,” he agreed. He pressed a kiss to the top of Aillis’ head and then ducked out of her tent. He took a hard right and walked down the row to rouse Knight-Captain Eamon – nobody would mind being woken up for _this_ news.

 

*

 

Higgins returned to the Inquisitor’s quarters at Third Bell, having _still_ not been relieved of duty by the Commander. Killeen – and Tamson – had harassed him over it, but Higgins was adamant.

The Commander had given him a job.

He had slept through the day, and on waking was told the Inquisitor had been out & about, but Cullen was still confined to chambers. Trevelyan was in the war room when Higgins started the long trek up to the top, and the door was unlocked when he reached the apartment the Commander now shared with the Herald.

Higgins tapped on the door and waited.

“In,” Cullen called, his tone laced with amusement.

“Ser, its Higgins,” he announced himself as he shut the door behind him and slowly climbed the last flight of stairs.

“Higgins?” the Commander asked, the smile evident in his voice before Higgins was far enough into the room to see it for himself. Cullen was seated on the chaise by the roaring fire, writing in a black leather journal. His armor was hung on a stand between the bed and the railing for the stairs, and he was wearing the trousers and shirt he normally wore under the heavy breastplate and pauldrons. “You’re the first person I’ve granted entry into this room. It still feels odd to consider it mine. What brings you up here?”

“Thank you, ser. It’s Third Bell, ser.”

A grin split Cullen’s face. “And I never relieved you from duty,” he observed as he set the book aside and cared for his quill.

“No, ser.”

“I’ve been told you came up every day of my infirmary.”

“I did, ser.”

Cullen waved at chair near him, and Higgins crossed the room to sit.

“How’s your throat?”

Higgins smiled. “Solas had a draught for me to drink every night when I left. My voice was returned by the time I woke the next afternoon. My throat is fine, thank you.”

Cullen stoppered the vial of ink and lifted one hand to the back of his neck, keeping his eyes anywhere but on the soldier he spoke to. “I don’t have any way of thanking you,” he enunciated carefully.

Higgins dropped his gaze to his feet. “None needed, ser. It was a job I was glad to do.”

“Oh for fucks sake, will you two assholes just hug it out?” Trevelyan’s voice interrupted.

Both men jerked their heads up to watch her jog up the last few steps into the apartment. “Higgins, I will love you forever, but you already knew that. Cullen fucking adores you, and he’s too much _your superior officer_ to ever say it. Cullen, he’s your soldier but he’s also your biggest fucking fan, he joined the Inquisition just so he could serve under you. You two are driving me fucking insane.”

Higgins started to laugh, helplessly, and Cullen glanced over at him with the same incredulous look as Higgins knew must be on his own face.

“Thanks, Knuckles,” Higgins said through his laughter. “Anything else you need to get off your chest?”

Cullen’s grin returned as Eveyln made an infuriated sound through her teeth. “ _Men_. Maker’s teats, this is almost as bad as watching Dorian and Bull maneuver around each other. At least with _them_ I knew it would _eventually_ get somewhere. You two are just going to dance around the fact that you have way more between you than a _professional relationship_. For fuck’s sake, Cullen, at least shake the man’s hand.”

Both of them laughing now, Cullen obediently extended his hand to Higgins, who reached out and clasped it. They shook, and immediately let their hands drop to their sides. Evelyn, watching, made another snarl of frustration and stalked out of the room, hands reaching up to tug at her hair as she kicked shut the door to the bathing chamber behind her.

“There’s potential here,” Cullen mumurred, and Higgins curled his shoulders inwardly as he shook with laughter. “It isn’t often I find a means to aggravate her like that.”

 _“I fucking heard that_ ,” she called threateningly from the other room.

Higgins dropped his head and covered it with his arms, fighting desperately to keep his laughter silent.

“I suppose I should release you back into Killeen’s unit,” Cullen mused aloud. “I’ll inform her of it tomorrow, _if I’m allowed back to work_ ,” he pitched the last for Evelyn’s ears.

“If you’re still _walking_ ,” she snarled back, but Higgins could hear the obvious affection in both their voices.

“Killeen was on Fourth last night, so she’ll have first tomorrow. I’ll inform her at the end of her Watch. You can resume normal function when her company has Second. That should give you a couple day’s rest to make up for the grueling schedule you’ve been keeping.”

Higgins shrugged. “It really wasn’t so bad, ser. I needed the break from the practice ring. I can only stand the Bull breaking my nose so many times; I’m only human.”

Evelyn’s laugh joined Cullen’s as she reentered the room, now in her plaidweave pajamas, drying her face and neck.

“So you’re giving him some time off?” Evelyn asked, dropping onto the chaise beside the Commander. Cullen laid a hand on the small of her back; Higgins couldn’t help but smile at the unconscious gesture of affection.

“I am. Is that a poor decision on my part? Are you going to lure him back into his old ways? I’ve worked hard in your absence to temper him into officer material, I’d hate to see that all undone.”

Higgins started laughing again as Evelyn feigned insult. “Cullen! I’m hurt! I wouldn’t dream of encouraging Higgins to drink and tell off-color jokes with me in the ‘Rest in the evenings.” She paused long enough to wink at Higgins, who could only continue to laugh. “My hope, however, was to get him back into the training ring. If he’s graduated to sparring with the Iron Bull, perhaps he’s ready to learn to fight rogues? I need something to keep me busy until Cassandra gets back with Varric and Dorian.”

Higgins’ laugh cut off abruptly when he realized what she was saying, and Cullen turned to look at him. “I would _love_ to spar with you, Inquisitor,” the soldier responded formally. “I am sure it is an ass-kicking I will cherish for the remainder of my days.”

Cullen leaned back with a roar of laughter as Evelyn quickly stood and made Higgins shake on it. “Tomorrow at Second Bell, Nuggins. Bring your A-Game.”

“Your time off starts now,” Cullen added, gesturing at the door. “Rest up. Apparently you’re going to need it.”

Higgins took the stairs down two at a time, feeling lighter than he had in years.


	53. Sealing the Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren't really *trying* to screw over Aillis...

She was dressed in a closely fitted leather jerkin and pants to match, with tightly laced boots that stopped right below her knees.

He was wearing the trews and shirt that he normally wore under his armor.

She had two daggers that seemed to be made of a kind of firm chalk.

He had a training sword, Glennon’s shield, with a blunted short sword dangling on his offhand side.

Cullen was armed and armored like usual, which had earned him accolades when he’d emerged from the main hall that morning.

Aillis was pissed.

“You’re sparring? With Knuckles? WHILE I’M ON WATCH?” she hissed at Higgins as he made his way to the practice ring in the upper courtyard from the gate.

“She offered. Do you really think I’m going to turn that down? Honestly?”

“No. I know you wouldn’t. But, damn it, Nuggins, I’m going to have a terrible time keeping order once word gets out.”

Higgins flipped around to walk backwards so he could wink at her. “Better hope word doesn’t get out, then.”

He spun again and fled up the stone stairs to the upper level of the courtyard, where the Commander and the Inquisitor were waiting for him.

“Come to stop us, ser?” Higgins asked as he drew near.

“Oh, no,” Cullen laughed. “I’m here to _watch_. Eamon has left me remarkably little to catch up on, and there is no council meeting if the Inquisitor won’t come to the war room.”

Higgins grinned at him. “Fair enough. Permission to perhaps injure your lady, Commander?”

“You are welcome to _try_ ,” the Commander replied, and moved away to find a better vantage.

“Do you want a lesson, first, or just jump right in?”

“Oh, definitely a lesson. I’ve seen you and Killer twice now, I’m not making that mistake.”

“Alright. I’m going to disappear, and I want you to try to find me.”

Before Higgins could respond, Evelyn pitched sideways in a tight roll and vanished. Higgins slowly backed up until his heels struck the wall of the armory and scanned the practice ring. He left the shield slung across his back and drew his short sword, using it as a pointer.

“There’s a bit of dust moving there,” he said, pointing. “That’s all I got.”

The moving bit of dust materialized into Evelyn, who rolled into a standing position from the precise spot his sword had been pointing. She was breathing a little heavily. “Well done,” she congratulated him.

“Is that hard to do?” Higgins asked, sheathing his weapon.

“Yes and no. In the middle of the day, in a sunny practice ring, with no cover and a dusty surface? Ridiculously hard. In the middle of an overcast night on a rooftop in the Marches? Effortless.”

Higgins nodded. “Alright. So if there wasn’t dust to give you away, what would I look for?”

“Movement,” she answered immediately, although in a tone pitched not to carry. “If you look _really really hard_ you can see the movement in the air. Practice with Ringwold, he’s probably easier to see than me.”

“I’ll tell him you said that,” Higgins threatened with a laugh.

She punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Jerk.”

She reached over her shoulders and drew the chalked daggers. “These will sting, but they shouldn’t break the skin.”

“You’re already nicer than Bull, then,” he answered, pulling Glennon’s shield off his back.

Evelyn froze, staring at the shield in his hands. She quickly sheathed her daggers and walked to the edge of the training ring, grabbing one of the templar shields resting against the armory wall. “Use this,” she said. “I’m not really comfortable attacking Glennon’s shield.”

Higgins smiled at her gently. “He wouldn’t mind.”

She thrust the shield at him. “I mind. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your vacation day scraping chalk off Glennon’s shield. Actually, let’s send it down to Dagna and get it cleaned up before you actually need to use it again.”

“That going to be sometime soon?” Higgins asked.

She gave him an unreadable look. “A few weeks, maybe. I’ve got some work to do in the Emprise, and then we’ll be on the march again.”

He handed the shield over without another word. Evelyn whistled at the runner waiting near Cullen – one of Aillis’ templars, a baby-faced ‘Marcher named Liston – and had it carried to Dagna with the orders “Clean, polish, reinforce, but do not alter.” Higgins strapped the borrowed shield onto his arm and gave it a couple swings to check the weight and balance.

“You know I have to go down there and babysit it,” he told her as she drew her daggers again.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got the night off, then,” she replied, and vanished.

Higgins threw himself backwards, scurrying to put his back to the armory wall, and then viciously kicked up a cloud of dust.

 _There_. A slight shift in the cloud, moving right to left. He took a step forward and shield-bashed the disturbance, only halfway surprised when his shield met something solid. The Inquisitor flew backwards, materializing out of nothing. She tumbled through the dust, coming up on her feet, laughing openly.

 _“Yes!_ ” she crowed. “Finally, a _fight_.”

She flew through the air, then, both daggers up in front of her like fangs. Higgins met her with his shield, and the match was on.

She never stopped moving. He had a hard time tracking where her hands were, but after a moment he decided it didn’t matter. He focused on the movement of her hips and shoulders, and managed to keep one step ahead of her every time she tried to flank him. Her daggers bounced off his shield in a relentless staccato song, continuously looking for the gap in his defenses that would let a strike through.

Higgins saw an opening and took it, deflecting her left-hand dagger with the flat of his sword and kicking out with his right foot to trip Trevelyan. She went down, but her right-hand dagger laid a chalk line down his thigh that would have opened him up to the bone. Rather than attempt to put the point of his sword on her, Higgins fell over, pinning her beneath him and planting his shield over her shoulders to keep her daggers immobile.

A cheer came up from the edge of the ring, where Sera and Lace Harding were watching with a sparse handful of templars. Evelyn’s laugh rose up from under his shield, and Higgins rolled off the Inquisitor to sprawl on the ground and catch his breath.

“Did I get you?” she asked as she rolled away and sat up in a crouch, balancing on the balls of her feet and dropping her chalked daggers to the ground to wave her hands dry in the cool mountain air.

“Opened me from hip to knee,” he answered with a grin, twisting to show her the line.

“Ha!” she punctuated the sound with a clap of her hands. “It’s not a decision until one of us lives.”

“If I had a mage nearby, I could have lived,” he argued, rolling to his hands and knees and pushing his upper half upright.

“If I had a mage nearby, they would have stone-fisted you off me, and _I_ would have lived. No imaginary party composition allowed.”

Higgins chuckled, “Fair enough,” and pushed up onto his feet. Evelyn rose gracefully next to him.

“Your start,” she said, gesturing for him to take the first strike.

Higgins shook his head. “Shield is defensive. I wouldn’t initiate.”

“No? Cassandra does.”

“Does she? Or does she just run forward and provoke the first attack?”

Evelyn tilted her head, considering it. “You know, I never thought about it before. I bet you’re right.”

Higgins nodded once. “Of course I’m right.”

“Oh, fuck a whole lot of that,” Evelyn laughed, and leapt at him again.

By the end of an hour they were utterly filthy, dust mingling with sweat to coat them with a fine layer of mud. Higgins had a chalk line running from his armpit to his elbow and another from his sternum to his navel in addition to the original line on his leg; all of them judged fatal without immediate magical intervention. He earned all three “wounds” as he disarmed or disabled the Inquisitor, though, so each match was agreed a technical draw. Cullen congratulated Higgins on his performance before excusing himself to check into the armory and begin to make his way around to his office.

“This,” Evelyn panted happily. “This is happening again. Frequently. Holy shit, Nuggins.”

“Only in broad daylight,” he corrected as he shook water out of his hair from the bucket he’d up-ended over himself. “I’d be dead in seconds at night.”

“Likely,” Evelyn agreed, but there was no condescension in her tone. “Or in a cave.”

“Oh, fuck no,” Higgins gasped. “I am never setting foot in a cave again, now. Andraste’s ass, Knuckles, that’s _terrifying_.”

“That’s what Varric says,” she laughed, crossing to where he stood by the edge of the ring and taking a water bucket for herself. She looked at it grimly for a second before dumping it over her head and coming up spluttering. Higgins fell backwards laughing.

“Fuck that’s cold,” she gasped. “It looks so refreshing when you do it! You people are _insane_!”

Higgins sat down heavily on the ground and laughed haplessly at the sodden Inquisitor. As he caught his breath, he noticed there was almost nobody watching them, nor had anyone really come up while they were sparring.

“Do you think Aillis closed the gates?” he asked.

Evelyn looked up as if noticing the quiet for the first time. “Oh, no. I bet you’re right.”

Higgins started laughing again. “I’ll go tell her we’re done.”

“And I’ll go get a hot bath. _Fuck_ that was cold.”

Higgins stuck his fist out to the Inquisitor, grinning when she happily punched it and then darted up the stairs to the main hall. Knocking the water out of his ears, he left the training sword and shield at the armory and made his way to the gates.

They were closed. Aillis stood with her arms crossed in front of them, staring down a _very_ angry Eamon.

“I don’t care,” she was saying as Higgins drew near. “If this is what I have to do to keep order, then it’s my _job_ to do it.”

“They’re your fellow soldiers!” Eamon’s voice almost a shout. “They answer to simple instructions, you don’t have to _seal the keep_ , I don’t care _what_ might be going on in the courtyard.”

“Nothing’s going on in the courtyard,” Higgins said casually as he walked up the gates. “Can I get out? I need a change of clothes.”

He received silence in return. After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder to see Eamon biting his bottom lip and tilting his head to the side, desperately fighting back his laughter.

Aillis’ eyes were pure murder.

“Absolutely,” Eamon croaked a moment later. “Knight _Lieutenant_ Aillis was in the process of opening the gates.”

“Thank you, Knight- _Captain_ ,” Higgins answered evenly, and then turned back to watch for the gates to open.

When they finally did, he strode through without a backwards glance.

Higgins got cleaned up and returned to the keep for an early dinner, knowing Aillis was off watch at Third Bell and would stop for food before coming to kill him. He ate quickly and escaped to the ‘Rest where he suspected the Herald would be waiting for him.

“I hear the Knight-Lieutenant on duty this morning sealed off the keep,” Trevelyan said as Higgins sat next to her at the bar. “Something about worries of overloading the keep with _everyone_ in the encampment trying to come inside. I can’t imagine what the draw might have been.”

“It appeared that way to me,” Higgins agreed mildly. “The gate was closed when I tried to leave. Eamon was opening it as I arrived, so I wasn’t inconvenienced for long.”

“Awful nice of her, to let us spar in peace like that,” she said in an offhand manner.

Higgins felt the smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Terribly thoughtful,” he agreed.

“I’m going to fucking kill you two,” Aillis informed them as she dropped into the stool next to Trevelyan. “I don’t know how. And I don’t know when. But one of these days, you sons of bitches, you are going to pay for the shit morning I just had.”

Trevelyan’s head _thumped_ onto the table as her shoulders shook. Higgins pinched his eyes shut tightly and tried desperately not to laugh.

“Aillis!” Sera called happily from the second floor landing. “With Ev here, mebbe I can _finally_ get yeh ta tell me the truth, wot? I owe it to Nuggins!”

Aillis wrapped her hands around the tankard Cabot handed her, clenching and unclenching her jaw. Trevelyan tilted sideways to lean against Higgins, her giggles becoming more audible as they became more hysterical. Higgins bit his lip and started punching himself in the thigh to try to keep quiet.

“Hey!” Killen called from the door. “What did I miss?”

With a squeak, the Inquisitor pitched onto the floor, curling into a little ball and emitting a sound that seemed more a cry of pain than a laugh. Higgins buried his face in his hands and gave up, helpless to keep his mirth silent.

Aillis coughed a frustrated sort of laugh, but was obviously losing the battle against her friends’ merriment.

“You rat bastards,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Put one up for Killer and Sera, Cabot, on me.”


	54. Marching Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Higgins prepares for the Arbor Wilds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it comes again.

The Inquisitor was gone in the Emprise du Lyon for nearly a month, severing the Venatori’s red lyrium supply lines and then ridding the region of dragons. While she was away, the army was being prepped to march.

Lieutenants assigned their seconds – Killeen acting like she was considering replacing Higgins for all of three seconds – and delegated responsibility. Seconds were made responsible for holding weekly inspections of arms and armor and verifying each soldier and templar had the supplies they would need on the long march into the Dales.

The waitlist for the smithy was kept remarkably short; Harritt had been given a head start and was able to churn out repairs and replacements far faster than ever before with Dagna’s help. Dagna had given Higgins back Glennon's shield within hours of the Inquisitor sending it to her. There was a thin ring of runes around the lip, and it sparkled like it hadn't before, but every dent and scratch was right where Higgins remembered. It was also undeniably cleaner. Dagna's ability to make short work of smithing paid its dividends directly to the soldiery.

“Your bracer, Elliot,” Higgins sighed during his second inspection of Killeen's troops. “It _has_ to get replaced. Why didn’t you take it to Harritt’s yesterday?”

“There’s… there’s other more pressing-“

“Undercroft. Now. Hop!”

Elliott raced off. Higgins continued down the line.

“All set, Crews, well done.”

“Thanks, Nuggins.”

“Davis! Damn, man, so close. Shield strap is frayed. Got to fix that while we still can.”

“Shit. Sorry, Nuggins.”

“Get it by next week and we’re solid.”

Killeen and the other Lieutenants were tasked with the far more distasteful job of determining precisely who was staying behind. Bull and his Chargers were coming with them – the Inquisitor had called for all hands on deck in the Arbor Wilds – and so a token force had to be left in Skyhold, led by someone who could command the respect of a ragtag force.

“Cullen wants it to be you,” Killeen told Higgins in confidence on an otherwise lovely afternoon about a week after the Inquisitor had left for the Emprise.

Higgins didn’t wait for an explanation, but headed straight for Cullen’s office.

“Higgins, a concern?” Cullen asked when the soldier reached the front of the queue that was always stretching out the Commander’s door. Tamson and Eamon were sitting to either side of Cullen’s desk, working as hard as the Commander.

“Lieutenant Killeen gave me reason to believe you intend to leave me behind on this march, ser,” he said.

Eamon’s eyes widened and he scooted his chair back from the table. Tamson went still.

Cullen slowly looked up. “If I gave you that order, soldier, would you take it?”

Higgins met the Commander’s eye. “I would follow any order you gave me, to the death, ser.”

A brief smile crossed Cullen’s face. “I know, Higgins.”

“Forgive me, ser, but I do not believe leaving me in Skyhold is the best option for the Inquisition.”

Cullen leaned back and gestured for Higgins to continue.

“First, ser, there are only 46 fighters remaining from the battle for the Breach. All 46 should go with you to the Arbor Wilds, as your most veteran troops. Since the presentation of the Survivor’s Brigade to the nobility while you were (ahem) threatened by the Comtesse, we have become a force unto our own. If anything, I would recommend those 46 – 45 if Rylen cannot come back from Griffon Wing – be your spearhead force.”

He waited for an argument, but Cullen repeated the gesture for Higgins to speak.

“Second, ser, before you fell ill, I went over the maps with you for the Dales. I have spent more time going over tactics with you than anyone else, simply by nature of you and I having ten to twelve hours together, daily, for weeks. I know the plans, and I can better serve you in the Dales than I could here.”

He paused again, and Tamson slowly leaned back to cross his arms. No one spoke.

“Third, ser, I’m a survivor of Haven. Not just Haven, but the Haven front lines. I have fought lyrium abominations and Venatori spellbinders. I’ve seen the Inquisitor fight, and I know how to support her and her team. I have experience in the field, experience on the _battlefield_ , and I feel that is better utilized in the Arbor Wilds.”

When Cullen waved for him to continue, Higgins shook his head, once. His main points were made.

“You do not think you could run Skyhold in our absence?”

Higgins shook his head again. “I know I could, ser. I know Mahvrin and Aieyla, I know Dagna and Harritt. I am known by the soldiery and the templars. I have a reputation that could hold Skyhold. My point is that I could _better_ serve in the Arbor Wilds.”

“I suppose the better question would be,” Eamon offered, “who you propose to take Skyhold if not you, and why?”

“Knight-Commander Delrin Barris, ser,” Higgins answered immediately. “First, because the day-to-day command of the templars in Skyhold has long belonged to Knight-Captain Eamon, thus reducing Delrin’s impact on the battlefield. Second, _should we fail_ in the Arbor Wilds, whoever is left behind in Skyhold must be able to run the everyday activities of the keep, hold down Skyhold until the Inquisitor can find her way here, and then help the Inquisitor begin the process of recruitment anew. Delrin Barris can serve _that_ function better than anyone else short of you, Commander. While he is a leader and a accomplished warrior, and he could absolutely be of assistance in the Arbor Wilds, he would serve _better_ in Skyhold.”

The three men stared at Higgins with varying degrees of amusement.

“How long have you been thinking about this, Higgins?” Eamon asked with a grin.

“For about as long as I was waiting in line, ser.”

Tamson openly chuckled. “He’s got a point, Cullen.”

Cullen sighed. “He does. Very well, Higgins, we’ll see you in the Dales.”

Higgins snapped a fist to his breast. “Thank you, ser.”

“Dismissed.”

Higgins strode back to Killeen, who was still sweating over her list of who in her company should be left in Skyhold.

“Scratch me off of there,” he told her, glancing over her shoulder. “Commander’s letting me march.”

Killeen blinked up at him in shock. “What did you say to him to change his mind?”

“Exactly what he wanted to hear,” Higgins answered with a smile. “Tactics.”

 

*

 

“Where do I put my things?”

“Excuse me?” Higgins looked up from the requisition list he’d just gotten updated by Harritt. Erika was standing in the sunlight just outside his tent, the flap tied back to let in the almost-warm afternoon air.

“My things? So they go to the Dales?”

“Why are you sending your stuff to the Dales?”

Erika rolled her eyes. “You sleepwalking? You haven’t done it since you were ten, but I guess you could backpedal at any time.”

Higgins frowned at her. “Erika. What are you sending to the Dales and why?”

“My stuff, for the same reason _everybody_ is sending their stuff to the Dales. Unless you’re giving me all new things to take with me?”

Higgins realized what she was saying as a chill slid down his spine. ”You’re not coming with us.”

Erika laughed. “Of course I am. I’m coming with the kitchen staff.”

“Erika, you can decide not to come or I can make it so you can’t, but either way the result is the same. You are _not_ going to the Dales.”

Her eyes flashed. “You don’t have any right-“

“I have every right!” he surged to his feet but kept his tone low. “You are not part of the kitchen staff, you are a part of the _Herald’s Rest_ and the tavern staff _stays_. There are men staying in the keep and your duties are with _them_ and with _Cabot_. If you want something else to do, Mahvrin can find you other duties, but you are _not coming to the Dales_.”

“If I were anybody else, would you care?”

“If you were anybody else, you wouldn’t have come to ask me about your things. You would have talked to somebody else, and _they_ would have stopped you. You are too smart and too useful to be a _camp follower_ , Erika.”

She reacted as if slapped, and turned to flee.

At that moment, Krem was coming through the encampment – probably to fetch Higgins for a much-needed spar – and for one fraction of an instant, Higgins could see Erika’s face as she looked at Krem. Then her back was to him and she was escaping in the opposite direction that Krem was coming from, the momentary longing and despair hidden in her flight.

“Your sister alright?” Krem asked as he strode up to Higgins.

Higgins fought for a second to unwind his thoughts, putting up a hand to beg Krem for a moment to think. Krem crossed his arms and waited.

“Erika told me she was coming with us to the Arbor Wilds. Said something to the affect that she’d volunteered with the kitchen staff.” He watched Krem’s face carefully as he spoke.

The Tevinter’s eyes widened slowly and then narrowed dangerously. “Please tell me you told her not to.”

“That’s exactly what I said. You see the reaction it caused.”

Krem relaxed minutely. “She has no place anywhere near a battlefield.”

Higgins watched the Charger Lieutenant but couldn’t choose his next words.

“Don’t ask me what she’s thinking, because I don’t know,” Krem spoke in answer to the question Higgins couldn’t decide how to form. “We speak. Often. Void take it, you know how often I’m in the ‘Rest. But it’s never gone farther than that – we’ve only ever talked, and never about… _that_.”

“I wasn’t going to ask, Krem. It’s none of my business.”

Krem shook his head. “I’ll go set her straight.”

“Spar before or spar after?”

“Definitely after,” the Lieutenant answered, striding off the in the direction Erika had vanished.

Krem was back an hour later, and with a jerk of his head called Higgins to the training ring. The two men didn’t speak a single word: Krem threw Higgins a shield and sword from the training weapons rack, hefted armaments for himself, and then launched into an attack on the Fereldan. They didn’t score the match, didn’t stop to judge wounds or discuss strategy. There were no compliments or criticisms.

They were just two men who desperately needed to hit something.

Higgins did his best not to think about Erika, but he _knew_ that was wearing on Krem’s mind. Was he interested in Erika? Interested in somebody else? Interested in no one? Was Krem like him? The only fundamental truth Higgins could settle on was that _it was none of his business_ and _he didn’t care_ , one way or the other.

Just so long as Erika was kept safe.

When they were both exhausted – bloodied and battered and sated – Krem jerked his chin towards the keep. “She said she’s staying. Said you don’t have to go over her head.”

“Do you believe her?” Higgins panted.

“No. I’ll be the one to talk to Aieyla, though. You’re her family, you should stay out of it. She needs you on her side.”

“I have no problem-“

“I’ll handle it,” Krem said, although there was a odd gentleness to his voice.

Higgins nodded, and they put their weapons up. Krem returned to the Keep. Higgins walked back to the encampment.

The matter was never discussed again. If Erika’s eyes were a bit bloodshot when Higgins saw her next, the hug she gave Higgins told him he wasn’t the source of her distress.

“Do you need to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, a bit harshly though she smiled to take the edge off her words. “I’d rather never talk about it again.”

 

*

 

They were packing the carts with tents, bedrolls, and firewood – the three most critical needs on the march – when the Inquisitor returned from Emprise du Lyon. They were prepared to leave the day after she got back, but logistics in the kitchen cost them enough hours that the decision was made to march the following morning.

Higgins called one last inspection of Killeen’s unit.

“Some of you were with us in Haven,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at Killeen, who nodded. “Some of you didn’t arrive until after Adamant. But there’s a few things you _all_ need to keep in mind on the march.”

He paused for Killeen’s reassurance, and she laughed, pushing him forward. “Crews has command once we run into actual fighting. Weaver, you’re second. You might have heard, Davis is staying behind to lead one of the companies responsible for the defense of Skyhold.” Higgins turned to the two big men standing beside each other, as they had been since manning the ram at Adamant. “Much like Glennon and I had to be split up, you two can’t both go.”

Davis, who had been upset about being left behind, swelled slightly with pride at the comparison. Crews grinned at him.

“We’re going to see things in the Dales that some of you cannot imagine, and that a few of you have nightmares about to this day. There will be wardens, either under Corypheus’ influence or leftover abominations from Erimond’s scheme. There will be red templars and red lyrium abominations of all shapes and sizes. There will be twisted men and warped giants. There will be Venatori warriors and rogues. There will be spellbinders and blood mages. There will be demons and rifts. This is the kind of army that destroyed Haven. This will make Adamant seem like a pleasant dream.”

There were audible swallows and shuffled feet, but nobody looked away.

“We will not all survive this.”

Another uncomfortable pause.

“We are not in a fight against another country. This is not Ferelden against Orlais, this is not Andraste against the Imperium, this is not an Exalted March. This is not a Blight: this is not a war that may last a hundred years and change the face of Thedas. This is a battle against _annihilation_. This is men and women of all races standing together against forces that want to rip our world apart. This is why we joined. This is why we are the Inquisition: we are above countries. We are above religions and creeds. We are more than our race, our color, our language. We are fighting for our right to _exist_. And if my life – if Killeen’s life – if _Cullen’s_ life – can buy salvation, it will be a _bargain_.”

There was a smattering of cheers, but Higgins wasn’t done.

“When we stood at the battering ram at the gates of Adamant, Inquisitor Trevelyan stood behind us. She and Seeker Cassandra, Varric and Solas, stood shoulder-to-shoulder at our backs. Solas cast the barrier that saved Ringwold, that gave me this beauty mark,” he paused to flourish at the scar on his face. Elliott, finally, laughed.

“The Inquisitor will _have our backs_. She promised me, one night at the fire in Haven, what feels like a lifetime ago, that while she could not promise we would all survive, she _could_ promise that our lives would cost our enemy _dearly_. She promised that she and Cullen, Leliana and Josephine, would give us our _best odds for survival_. And so the task passes to us: we have to give the Inquisitor _her_ best odds at success. We were her ticket into Adamant, and we’re her ticket into the Arbor Wilds. If she brings down Corypheus it will be because she was able to launch from our backs. _This_ is what you must remember.”

Higgins unslung Glennon’s shield and brandished it at the assembly. “For the Inquisitor,” he said.

“FOR THE INQUISITOR,” the company roared in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I need to do a quick split of the next chapter... so if the 'final chapter count' changes in the next day or so, that's why. I think I need to not do all of the Arbor Wilds in one chapter... that might be almost too much.


	55. The Shit Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From "Of Fear and Lyrium," Chapter 23:  
> 'The Battle for the Arbor Wilds was a complete shit show.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You need to listen to [this](https://soundcloud.com/littlevmills/dragon-age-inquisition-theme-epic-rock-cover?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=twitter/) while reading this chapter. Trust me.

Leliana’s scouts had found the location of the Temple by the time the army arrived, and had already met with some casualties. The rumor was immediately circulating that a force of _elves_ was causing much of the trouble, as the Venatori seemed to have no idea the scouts were there.

They definitely noticed the army.

Fighting started immediately. Roz and Ringwold stayed in the back, building an encampment and infirmary at base camp. Their seconds were then tasked with taking over the protection of the Inquisition’s flank as the Lieutenants left to join the fight at the front.

Higgins’ suggestion about the Survivor’s Brigade had been taken to heart; new seconds had been selected for Killeen and DeForests’ companies; soldiers who had survived Haven but not the Conclave. Rylen had been brought up from Griffon Wing. 46 strong, the Survivor’s Brigade was the heart of the Inquisition Forces. They built a cage of steel around the Commander, and Cullen led from the front.

They were 42 strong when the Inquisitor came upon them on the river. They had been holding that position for an hour – maybe two – and sent four of their number back to the base camp with injuries, all of them nonfatal if treated.

The Inquisitor’s team was in perfect form, having fought nonstop for months. Solas and Morrigan controlled the pace of the battle as Varric called out targets and Bianca’s steady _thump_ removed rogues from the fight before they could compromise the Inquisitor. Cassandra led, and Evelyn flitted from side to side, shredding anything that managed to actually reach the Seeker.

The team passed around the Survivor’s Brigade like a whirlwind, and drew the soldiers towards the Temple in their wake.

The Inquisition losses were higher the closer they got to the Temple, where DeForest's company was desperately trying to take the bridge. The Survivor’s Brigade reached the entrance as Aillis’ company of templars arrived from the other route down. The two groups turned to make sure no Venatori entered the Temple behind the Inquisitor and her team.

They were expecting reinforcements – there were two companies of soldiers and Meyer’s templars somewhere on the paths behind them – and so they settled in for a bloodbath.

They got one.

The red lyrium abominations and red templars were endless. The Inquisition was being slowly backed into the Temple, giving up ground slowly to minimize their losses. Cullen had the battle tightly controlled.

Until Tamson went down.

It was a lucky hit, Higgins and Killeen agreed later. The red lyrium abomination Tamson had cornered stumbled when Tamson shifted to the side and severed the brute's hamstring, and the monster swung his club awkwardly to try to keep his balance. He lost his grip on the weapon, and it took a weird arc in the air, snapping Tamson’s neck before the Captain could get his shield repositioned.

The effect his death had on the Survivor’s Brigade was immediate.

Screaming wordless rage, Killeen ran _up Higgins’ back_ and launched onto the abomination, chopping him into bits from the top down. Ringwold vanished, flitting across the battlefield looking like nothing more than the Inquisitor herself, except Ringwold was aiming to maim, not kill. The shrieks of the wounded quickly filled the air. DeForest led a small group in a screaming fury, following behind Ringwold to behead anything the rogue left upright. Rylen stood at the base of the stairs and swung a battle axe he'd lifted from a corrupted warden, hewing through red templars as if he was harvesting a field of wheat.

Forty one strong, the Survivor’s Brigade became beserkers.

The battle quickly swung the opposite direction as the tightly controlled ranks burst into chaos. Aillis’ templars spread out on one flank, keeping the enraged veterans contained while Cullen attempted to call them back to order.

They’d cleared much of the field when the giant came out of the woods.

It took fourteen of them to take him down.

Not one of those fourteen took so much as a _scratch_.

Ringwold climbed the giant’s back by jamming in his daggers and rising hand-over-hand to the beast’s shoulders, leaning over its face to thrust both blades into the monster’s eyes. He slid down the giant’s back as it fell, and then disappeared into the melee.

A company of red templars marched onto the field as Meyer’s templars finally burst out of the trees and a muffled explosion from somewhere in the Temple blew a shockwave through the armies. There was temporary chaos again, although this time it was not to the benefit of the Inquisition.

Higgins, now standing near to Cullen, pausing for breath, was watching as Eamon took a slicing blow to the neck of his armor. His head tipped unnaturally to one side and the Knight-Captain went down. Aillis was standing just a few paces behind Eamon’s slowly collapsing body, and her scream chilled Higgins’ blood.

Aillis leapt into battle, cutting down four red templars before the majority of the column saw her coming. Recognizing the threat, they slowly collapsed in on her.

Higgins took a step, stopped. If he broke ranks, Cullen might lose his tenuous grasp over the battle. He glanced around him – Killeen was screaming through the woods, it seemed. Her form appeared every few moments like lightning in a storm, her arm at a different position in her sweeping strikes everytime Higgins got a glimpse of her between the trees. There were red templars and corrupted wardens falling out of the woods in pieces everywhere she went. DeForest was still leading a small band of Survivors behind Ringwold, the rogue flickering into and out of existence almost at will. The rest of the Survivors were holding the bridge to the Temple with Cullen, resolutely throwing back any who approached.

Crews and Weaver suddenly burst out of the forest near the river, and the sight of his company made the decision for Higgins. He took two steps and threw himself off the bridge, landing sword-down into the skull of the giant lumbering towards Aillis, riding the beast to the ground. His sword lodged in the thick bone, but he was at Eamon’s body in two strides – confirming with a glance that the Knight-Captain was lost – and swept up the templar’s sword.

With Eamon’s blade and Glennon’s shield, Higgins set about saving Aillis.

How she was still upright was beyond understanding. There was a growing pile of red templars forming around her, and she was clearly bleeding from several rents in her armor. There were five red templars between Higgins and her; the upside being none of them saw him coming.

The first went down with a severed hamstring and then an opened jugular. The next, with a foot of steel through the opening in his armor under his arm, into his lung and then heart. The third started to turn as the second clattered to the ground, and Higgins opened up his face with an armored elbow and then drove Eamon’s sword through the corrupted man’s chin. He pulled the blade loose, spun, and severed the head of the fourth as he charged Higgins. Putting his shield up, Higgins ducked and then tipped forward, letting the fifth’s momentum carry him over Higgins’ shoulder. He glanced back in time to see Ringwold appear, thrusting daggers into the red templars eyes before flickering back out of sight.

Two more paces, and Higgins was at Aillis’ side.

“ON YOUR LEFT, BLUEBIRD,” he bellowed, and she shifted minutely to the right, letting Higgins’ shield guard her flank.

They were starting to fall into a rhythm when a clatter somewhere behind the mass of red templars made all the combatants pause. Killeen suddenly burst through, having somewhere picked up a shield with a _spike_ in it, and she swung it around her viciously, opening huge rents in the armor of anything that ventured near.

“NUGGINS!” she howled, throwing herself at Higgins and Aillis. They shifted again, and the three of them stood in the loose triangle they’d formed in the courtyard at Adamant. Ringwold had graduated from _rogue_ to _assassin_ , clearly having taken a page from the Inquisitor’s book, and shredded anything focusing on the trio of warriors in the middle of the sea of red templars.

As the red templars fell, the three warriors moved, slowly working their way back to Cullen on the bridge. They’d nearly reached Rylen's stand on the first step of the ancient stone structure when Higgins watched DeForest go down under the club of a red lyrium abomination.

“WEAVER!” he roared, his throat wavering with the effort.

The ‘Marcher’s voice raised in answer, somewhere off to Higgins’ right. “HIGGINS!”

Higgins stood a bit straighter, and pointed at DeForest’s small party, now beset by three abominations. “GET DEFOREST!”

“ON IT!” the former man-at-arms called, and then the battle changed again.

Killeen’s company, led by Crews and Weaver, formed a wedge behind the shield of the massive man from Ostwick, with Weaver on his left flank and Elliot on their right, with the remainder of the company – _his_ company – streaming through behind them. Within minutes they reached DeForest and lifted him from the field. The Lieutenant raised his sword at Higgins – raising hopes that he might survive – and Higgins glanced over his shoulder at the Commander just in time to see the archdemon burst out of the Temple.

To a man, the combatants fell to the ground: the Inquisition sought cover, the enemy groveled. Corypheus was on the dragon’s back, and they were…

…fleeing?

The red lyrium abominations broke rank, following their master in a full retreat to the north. The templars and wardens attempted to disengage, but as soon as they weren’t pushing forward the battle turned into a rout.

“SURVIVORS!” Cullen bellowed. The Commander was bloodied and clearly exhausted, but the work of securing the Temple was still to be done. The Survivor’s Brigade assembled on his mark.

They were 40, now; a very angry forty. Knight-Lieutenant Meyer trotted forward to duck his head under Aillis’ arm and be given command of the forces outside the Temple until Cullen returned. The Commander led the Survivor’s Brigade across the bridge and into what they soon learned was the Temple of Mythal.

There was no sign of the Inquisitor.

There were bodies _everywhere_ – elves and wardens, red templars and Venatori. But not one indication the Inquisitor had even _been there_ ; no weapons, no scraps of uniform, no footprints. Even the wounds on the dead didn’t match the weapons of the Inquisitor’s team.

When they reached the center of the Temple, they found the Eluvian shattered, sitting behind what looked like a recently-emptied pool of water.

“Shards are fresh, ser,” Higgins commented, kneeling beside the spray of glass. “Dust is _under_ them, and they’re clean.”

“Footprints here are from the Inquisitor,” Ringwold called from the side of the pool. “I can see Cassandra and Varric’s, too. The mages are harder to tell, but looks like everyone was accounted for as of right here.”

“Spread out,” Cullen said. “Whoever is hale, form into teams. We’re combing this place until we’re _sure_ there’s no place they could be concealed. If you find one of the Nightingale’s scouts, have them get Leliana in here.”

They scattered and delved deeply into the Temple. Higgins and Ringwold followed the Inquisitor’s footprints through a long series of side-chambers and concealed doors, finally getting all the way back to the very front of the Temple. Her team had apparently side-tracked around the combatants and gone straight to the heart of the place.

“That is likely how they were able to beat Corypheus here,” Leliana said when they returned to give their report. Cullen nodded absently.

“They are not here, Commander.” the Nightingale declared brusquely. “All indications are that they escaped through the Eluvian and it was destroyed behind them, perhaps to keep Corypheus from acquiring it. My people will pack it up and haul it to Skyhold. You should see to the army.”


	56. No One Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The immediate aftermath of the Arbor Wilds  
> **Previously part of Ch 55, but all of this in one place felt like too much.

It was a long walk back to the encampment. Higgins and Ringwold – both largely unhurt, although they were some of the only ones so lucky – tucked under Aillis’ arms and hauled the battered Knight-Lieutenant to safety.

Once the injured were collected, and everyone had been at least superficially assessed, Higgins led the most hale back to the battlefield.

As in Haven, as in Adamant, no soldier was left behind.

It was barely an hour before Aillis came staggering out to the Temple bridge, stumbling hard against Higgins once she found him.

“I have to… I have to…” she stammered, heedless of the tears.

“I know, Bluebird. Come on,” he wrapped an arm around her and gently led her to where Eamon had fallen.

She fell to her knees, and fumbled briefly, vainly, for a pulse. She tugged off his armor and assessed his wound. She lifted a box – his lyrium philter – from a pocket against his chest and tucked it somewhere in the recesses of her own breastplate. She thumbed shut his eyes and fell back to sit, numbly, in a pile of the dead.

Higgins lifted Eamon from the ground and carried him to the pyre they had built for him. The red templars had still been templars once, as the wardens had once been men and women of honor. Every body they found was brought to one of the pyres, though out of respect for the dead, those tainted by Corypheus or red lyrium were burned separately from the Inquisition troops, in a series of large pyres in the clearing.

There was a smaller pyre at the base of the bridge, near where Aillis had made her stand, where Eamon had fallen.

Eamon was placed there beside Tamson, their arms linked and their helms on. Higgins lifted Aillis from the ground again, held her close as Dorian lit the flame and their Captains were sent to the Maker’s side. "Alaric Tamson," Higgins said, having been told the Captain's name by Killeen before coming back out for funeral duty. "May you and Eamon find your way together."

He left Dorian in charge of the pyres, and carried the softly weeping Aillis back to the encampment. Killeen was waiting for him, her leg freshly sewn shut by the Chargers’ aptly-named Stitches. Higgins laid the templar gently next to their friend and, without a word, went back to the Temple.

It was well past daybreak before Higgins was contented that the dead had been given their due, and allowed for the exhausted forces to make their way back to camp. They took a few hours’ rest and then rose, as Cullen was calling them to order. The small army of support staff: cooks and drivers, firewatchers and healers, descended on the camp and started dropping the tents and loading the carts as the Commander addressed his forces.

“We will not travel far today, but travel we must. We are without news, and without a defensible position. There is the skeleton of an old stronghold not five leagues from here, and it will be our camp for the night. Those not hale enough to walk will be transported on the carts.”

The Commander briefed them, then, on what they had found in the Temple, and what their suspicions were about the Inquisitor’s likely escape routes.

“She’s sitting in the ‘Rest drinking already!” Killeen called when Cullen paused for a breath.

The soldiery erupted in laughter, and Cullen allowed himself a smile. Higgins could see it didn’t touch his eyes; the man was genuinely concerned for the Herald.

As the calls for a pool were made, and Killeen called again that she would keep the numbers, Cullen waved for silence, and immediately got it.

“Before we may march, we have some unfortunate business to conduct: Knight-Captain Eamon has fallen.”

Eamon was well-liked; the news immediately sobered the assembly.

“It is unwise to march without a chain of command in place. As such, I raise Aillis to the rank of Knight-Captain.”

Aillis, wrapped in yards of bandages, was sitting in the back of a cart not far from where Cullen was standing, and she looked up wearily. “Say what?”

“Go back to sleep,” Cullen told her gently, to a smattering of laughter.

“Her company will now be led by Nicholas, now Knight-Lieutenant Nicholas.”

There was an appreciative roar from Aillis’ unit; the man had long been her second.

“We lost many men this day; our taking of the Temple was not without significant loss. In addition to Knight-Captain Eamon, Captain Tamson has also fallen this day.”

Another stunned silence met the pronouncement. To lose not one but both Captains was unthinkable.

“Lieutenant Killeen, you are hereby Captain Killeen in his place.”

As Killeen strode forward to shake the Commander’s hand, something slid into place in Higgins’ mind. He was taking his first steps forward before Cullen started his next sentence.

“Killeen’s unit will be led by her second, hereafter Lieutenant Higgins.”

Higgins stood before the Commander, letting the man pin a heavy metal bar on the shoulder of his armor; he would get a new breastplate when they got back to Skyhold, with the rank emblazoned into the metal. Cullen was grinning at him broadly. He was vaguely aware of a cheer roaring around him, but the only voice he heard was his Commander.

”This was a long time coming, Lieutenant. I’m glad you were right, and I could pin the stripes on you myself.”


	57. The New Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army comes home from the Arbor Wilds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I'm leaving in 6 days and I have 4 chapters left to post.  
> I either increase my rate a little bit or run the risk of leaving y'all hanging for a MONTH while I'm overseas (with no WiFi in my apartment).  
> So this guy is going up today, 58 will be posted tomorrow, and I'll skip posting on the 30th. Then Chapters 59, 60, and 61 will go up on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd, respectively, and we'll have this all wrapped up before I cross the Atlantic.

The hideous creature that was Baron Plucky arrived midway through the next day’s march, alighting on Leliana’s arm and bringing a grin to the Nightingale’s face.

“Was that Plucky?” Killeen said, pushing through the ranks to march at Leliana’s left stirrup. “He’s from the Inquisitor, isn’t he?”

Leliana smiled down at the new Captain. “Surely a runner would be more appropriate? I cannot send the _Captain_ on a simple messenger’s errand.”

“You’re evil, Sister Leliana. We love you for it. But for the love of the Maker, _please_ tell me that was from Knuckles.”

Leliana handed the message – and its tube – to Killeen with a laugh, turning her attention to the overly proud bird on the pommel before her. “Run that to the Commander, if you would, soldier,” she said, not bothering to hide her joy.

Killeen was trotting against the flow of soldiers and templars, dodging between marching columns as she unrolled the missive and read it. A grin split her face as she approached Higgins, and she looked up just in time to meet his eye and put up a fist.

Higgins punched her knuckles as she ran by; he didn’t need her to tell him the bird had come from the Herald.

The Captain ran back to where her Commander was riding alongside one of the wagons. Aillis was sitting wearily within; the worst of her injuries had been healed by Lady Vivienne, but she was covered with minor wounds and still suffering from intense exhaustion.

The loss of Eamon was weighing on her, as well.

“All jokes aside,” Cullen was saying as Killeen jogged up to fall into step at his stirrup. “This is absolutely something you need to discuss with Lieutenant Higgins. He has borne the loss of Karl Glennon admirably, and would likely be honored by the opportunity to help you through this.”

“Don’t make the same mistake I did,” Killeen chimed in, startling the Commander. He glanced over at her and seemed confused by the broad smile on her face until he saw the patterned message tube in her hand. She lifted her arm to hand it to him with a grin. “Message for you, ser.”

Killeen had to watch her step – she was walking alongside a horse, after all – but she happened to glance back up at Cullen’s face as his bemusement turned into relief and then directly on to elation.

“Who had money on the Eluvian, and that she was home before we knew she was missing?”

Killeen’s grin went, impossibly, wider. “I will go check, ser.”

The pools were written on a clipboard on one of the kitchen carts, and Killeen jogged to the rear of the column to retrieve the carefully drawn charts and the sack of betting money.

“Knight-Templar Liston!” Killeen called, jogging towards the company that used to be Aillis’.

“Captain?” Knight-Lieutenant Nicholas asked, intercepting her before she could approach his unit.

“Not going to hurt the boy, Nick. Need to give him his winnings.”

“Winnings?” The Knight-Lieutenant asked. He hadn’t been paying attention to the pool, having been too swept up in Eamon’s loss and his sudden promotion. His templars, however, had _definitely_ been paying attention.

“Liston!” one of the closest to the Captain and the Knight-Lieutenant hollered. “Liston, you won the pool! What did you bet?”

Killeen could see a pair of hands raised up in exultation and then a baby-faced templar jogged over to them. “I picked that she went through the mirror, and that was already drinking before we missed her.”

Killeen handed him a pouch of coins. “Good pick, Knight-Templar.”

A cheer went up around her, and Killeen trotted off to the next winner. The scene repeated itself with one of Baudin’s soldiers named LaFontaine, the news getting swept through the columns of soldiers faster than Killeen could run.

Both of the last two winners were in Lieutenant Higgins’ unit.

“Not you, Nuggins? Really?” Killeen asked as she jogged up to his side.

“I didn’t bet,” Higgins answered easily. “You know what I would have picked, though.”

“You would have won,” she told him, and they both grinned.

“Elliott! Weaver!” Higgins called over his shoulder. The two soldiers broke formation and jogged over to their Lieutenant and former-Lieutenant.

“They tell you what they picked?” Killeen laughed as she saw those names on her list as the last two winners.

“I chose what I thought the Lieutenant would chose,” Elliott said happily. “And I told him as much.”

“Well, you were right,” Killeen said, handing her the sack of copper. “You too, Weaver.”

“Only reasonable explanation,” the former man-at-arms said, clapping his new Lieutenant on the shoulder before accepting his winnings and jogging away.

Higgins cupped his hands over his mouth and turned so he was walking backwards and facing his new command.

“Hop to! The Inquisitor’s drinking all our beer!”

There was a mixture of cheers and laughter, before Crews’ bellow cut through the din: “Bullshit! She doesn’t drink beer!”

The cheers turned to laughter, and Higgins spun back around to face front. Killeen leaned towards him, and they crookedly walked shoulder-to-shoulder for moment, laughing as they fell back into step with the marching soldiers.

“Cullen’s pushing Aillis to come talk to you,” Killeen said in low tones as they straightened.

“About Eamon?” Higgins guessed.

Killeen nodded.

“Thanks for the head’s up, Killer.”

“Anytime, Nuggins.”

 

*

 

The news that the Inquisitor was alive and well – and kicking around Skyhold without them – pressed the combined armies of the Inquisition into a faster march, but it was still days before they completed the long walk home.

When Skyhold finally came into view, the officers had to fight to keep the ranks from being broken. DeForest’s company was particularly bad, given their Lieutenant was riding in the wagon with Aillis and in notably worse shape than the Knight-Captain. Killeen had to bring them to a complete halt to get their attention enough to keep order. Higgins’ unit, however, trotted down the hill in perfect unison, their new Lieutenant calling out cadence as they jogged passed the carts, wagons, and other units.

_Your brother was home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_Your sister was home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_Your father was home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_Your mother was home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_Your mother, your father, your sister, your brother_

_They were all home when you left_

_You’re right!_

Lieutenant Baudin’s company seemed to take the unit jogging past them as an insult, and quickly raced up to join them, falling into step next to Higgins’ soldiers. Baudin, laughing, ran up to jog next to Higgins at the front.

_Your Herald was home when you left_

_You're right!_

_Commander was home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_The Chargers were home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_The templars were home when you left_

_You’re right!_

_The templars, the Chargers, Commander, the Herald_

_They were all home when you left_

_You’re right!_

As they ran, different soldiers started calling out the first line. It started in the front, with Weaver and Elliot, and soon they were all taking turns, each soldier in the row calling out to have the rest of the company answer.

_That Cabot was home when we left!_

_You’re right!_

_Red Jenny was home when we left!_

_You’re right!_

_The Seeker was home when we left!_

_You’re right!_

_Lace Harding was home when we left!_

_You’re right!_

Particularly good ones were cheered, but not everyone could think of something clever on the fly. Every possible family member was called – uncles, aunts, children, you name it – and _The Herald_ was repeated frequently.

The Herald, herself, seemed to appreciate it. She was sitting on a pyramid of ale barrels in the large training ring in the encampment outside the gates. She was laughing openly as Higgins and Baudin led the first of the soldiers down to meet her.

“Ferelden’s best for the victors!” she called, throwing her arms wide to welcome them home. The huge cheer that went up was bested a few minutes later when the Commander galloped up and swept her onto his horse, riding on into the keep without slowing.

Cabot and Erika had led the staff of the Herald’s Rest down to man the barrels, but Higgins and Baudin kept their companies at attention until the other three units had marched down to meet them. Erika had thrown herself at Higgins for a quick hug, releasing him with a wide smile and word of congratulations when he told her "I'm a Lieutenant now, got to keep my unit in order. We'll catch up soon, once I get my feet under me, okay?"

Captain Killeen climbed gracefully to the top of the barrels to stand where the Inquisitor had been but minutes before.

“Aillis will _kick my ass_ if we broach this while she’s laid up in a wagon!” Killeen called. “We need supplies unloaded! Wounded get taken to the keep! Horses curried and walked to the stables or Dennett will have _all our heads_. Hop to! The faster you get your shit put away the sooner we can _drink_!”

Killeen climbed down amidst the good-natured grumbling and jogged into the keep to find Knight-Commander Delrin Barris and exchange news, leaving DeForest’s company for Higgins to deal with. She could hear the new Lieutenant attempting to call them to order before giving up the effort. “Crews! Beat the shit out of the next man who tries to get a beer!”

“Yes, ser!” the eager answer came. Killeen laughed as her footsteps pounded dully down the causeway and the voices faded behind her.

“Get back to work, fuckers! If I don’t kill you, DeForest will!”

 

*

 

Much of the work of settling the army had been completed by the time Killeen had met with Delrin and gotten orders from Commander Cullen as he left the war room.

“The rear guard will continue their watch overnight. We’re resuming normal watch rotation at First Bell,” Cullen told her as they strode out of the main hall onto the causeway to his office. “Take volunteers, I want sentries out at the passes and a relay set.”

“Are we expecting attack?” Killeen asked as the door to Cullen’s office swung shut behind her.

“It is the enemy’s only reasonable alternative. Everything he needs, we have: the anchor, the Eluvian, the Well. He could meet all of his objectives by taking Skyhold. Mahvrin is having all available hands work overnight to prepare the lower levels for possible occupation; if forces are seen approaching we’ll immediately pull the entire encampment into the keep.”

“That will make us sitting ducks for the dragon,” Killeen argued.

“The council has an answer for the dragon,” Cullen replied. “Or, rather, Lady Morrigan has an answer.”

“What, is she going to ask her mom to help?” Killeen laughed.

Cullen met her gaze, expressionless.

Killeen swallowed. “You’re kidding.”

“I said nothing,” Cullen answered. “We do not yet have any indications that Corypheus possesses a force substantial enough to threaten Skyhold, but we must operate under the assumption that it is possible. I know you are knew to your rank, and your fellow Captain is debilitated. Therefore Captain Rylen is going to stay with us for the immediate future.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” Killeen breathed. Cullen grinned at her. “You are fully capable of handling this, Killeen. I have complete faith in you.”

The new Captain took a long breath. “Thank you, Rutherford.”

“You are welcome. Please keep me updated as to the progress of the encampment in settling in.”

“Yes, ser,” she said, and trotted back out of the keep.

She passed four men with black eyes pulling a wagon into the outbuilding used for storage, the heavy yokes - meant for horses - staggering them as Weaver stood in the seat. “You’re going to _earn_ that beer, you slackoffs! You wait until DeForest hears about all the bullshit you tried to pull when he was laid up! War or no, he’ll have your asses on the first caravan-“ he came up short as the wagon passed Killeen, tipping an imaginary hat. “Good evenin’, Cap'n,” Weaver called.

“Give ‘em hell, Weaver,” she answered, to the groans of the four men yoked to the wagon.

“You hear that? Yer fucked!” Weaver called as Killeen continued on to the encampment.

“Problems?” she asked as she found Higgins and Baudin directing traffic just beyond the gates.

Baudin started laughing. “Nothing Nuggins couldn’t handle. You see Weaver’s wagon?”

Killeen nodded. “That might need to become a standard encouragement device,” she congratulated her Lieutenants.

Higgins snorted. “Maker, I hope we don’t need it. DeForest’s unit is just having a hard time with their Lieut being beat the shit. The templars have had years of training, they can hold together through just about anything. Baudin’s company is so pissed about Tamson they could do with _less_ focus. If anybody’s going to cause trouble when the casks are broached, it’ll be them.”

Baudin nodded his agreement at Higgins’ assessment. “And our company?” Killeen prompted.

Higgins grinned at her. “No change, Cap’n. They listen to me, and I listen to you.”

Killeen nodded, looking around at her soldiers, planning for what needed to be done. The idea of hordes of Venatory and red lyrium abominations pouring over the lip of the mountain into the valley of Skyhold chilled her blood. 

Higgins immediately saw the change in her expression and knew something was wrong.

“What did Cullen tell you?” Higgins hissed, taking her elbow and quickly leading her away from anyone who might hear.

“Watch it, _Lieutenant_ , I’m still your commanding officer,” Killeen chastised him, but her heart wasn’t into it.

Higgins fixed her a glare that should have made her laugh.

“You’re scaring me, Killer,” he murmured.

Killeen sighed. “What is it that Corypheus wants?”

“What, besides our heads?” Higgins chuckled darkly. “I don’t know. The Inquisitor? That transportation mirror thing? Whatever that well was?” Killeen stayed silent as he finished, and he looked at her curiously. She could almost see his mind working, and when the smile dropped off his face and his expression melted into horror, she nodded.

“Maker’s burning whore,” Higgins whispered, surprising a shout of laughter out of Killeen. “He will have to strike here. What does Cullen want done?”

“Sentries at the passes, relays set to keep track of reports. Leliana’s getting scouts mobilized, I’m sure. If there’s sign of incoming forces, the keep is being prepped to hold the encampment.”

“That makes us sitting ducks for the dragon,” Higgins argued, and Killeen couldn’t help but grin.

“Exactly what I said. Cullen says there’s a plan for the dragon. And it’s not like the Inquisitor hasn’t made a habit of killing dragons recently.”

Higgins coughed a laugh. “Fair enough. Want me on this?”

Killeen shook her head. “You keep doing what you’re doing. We take up regular rotation at First Bell tomorrow. We need to put DeForest last in the rotation, give us a chance to either get him mobile or find him a new second to run the unit.”

“I didn’t know Smith went down,” Higgins said, referring to Deforest’s second.

Killeen nodded. “They’d be holding together better if she’d made it out of the Arbor Wilds.”

“Fair enough. That puts… who, Myles first?”

Killeen nodded again. “And you on Fourth tomorrow night. I’ll pass word.”

“Yes, ser,” Higgins said, and strode back to the training ring to get back to work, and try to keep Cullen’s worries about invasion from taking over his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was absolutely calling cadence as I typed this.  
> My fur children think I'm insane. I wasn't dumb enough to do it while my husband was present.


	58. First Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Higgins' first Watch as a Lieutenant. What could possibly go wrong?

DeForest was on crutches and passing out discipline by Second Bell the next day, after a fairly uneventful – if raucous – party in the encampment that night. He’d gotten bumped up the triage list when it was learned his Second had fallen, and a solid fifth of the Inquisition forces were leaderless. Higgins was facing down a difficult transition to officer duties, as even though his unit had Fourth that night, he was expected to be up in the keep during the day to meet with the other officers and keep abreast of any developments that might come out of the war room or ravencote.

He threw back a hasty meal when the kitchen opened that evening, and he trotted down to the gates for his first guard rotation as a Lieutenant just as the Bell rang Third. His company cheered as he approached.

“Alright, alright,” he answered their applause, laughing. “Anybody _not_ know what they’re supposed to be doing?”

“No, ser!” Davis called, the burly Fereldan pleased to be returned to his unit after having been left in the keep for the march.

“Fantastic. You know the drill, get to-“

The keep shook, dust and pebbles falling off the battlements as civilians were pitched to the flagstones and the soldiers fought to keep their feet.

“No,” Higgins breathed, memory bubbling to the surface of his thoughts. He darted up the stairs to the top of the wall so that he could get a clear view to the south.

He could see the Breach swirling to life seconds before the sound finally reached Skyhold, a thunderous boom that rattled his ribcage and brought tears to his eyes. He threw himself back down the stairs. His first watch in the Inquisition, and now his first watch as an officer… the Breach had it out for him.

“We are sticking to our watch!” he called his unit to order, the words rolling out of his memory to his lips, bypassing his consciousness altogether. “There are four other companies – one of them off today – that will respond! We will keep Skyhold secure! You have your assignments – get to them!”

Elliot was at his side within seconds, having been assigned as Higgins’ runner for the evening.

“What is it, ser?” she breathed.

“It’s the Breach, Elliot,” he answered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “The Breach just opened back up.”

Her face went white, and he turned her so she was facing him, and reached up so he was gripping both of her shoulders. He shook her, lightly. “She closed it before, she’ll close it again. She’s a thousand times tougher now as she was then, it will be a fucking _cakewalk_ for her. It’s going to be alright.”

Elliot nodded, still fighting for control of what was clearly a fear bordering on panic.

“Did you ever see the Breach before?”

She shook her head, and he quickly led her up the stairs to the top of the wall, turning her to look off to the south where the sickly green clouds were swirling with electricity. From the corner of his eye, he saw Cullen storm out of his office and cross the causeway into the main hall.

“It’s the same color as the anchor,” Elliott breathed. Higgins patted her shoulder.

“It is. That’s why the Hands thought she’d be able to close it. And they were right.”

Elliot nodded. “Thank you, ser.”

“You’re welcome. Now, we have to get back to work. I need you to find me a writing board like Josephine’s, we might have marching orders coming.”

Two hours later, Higgins was standing in Cullen’s office shoulder-to-shoulder with Baudin, Nicholas and Myles; DeForest was seated at the side of Cullen’s desk on a low bench next to Aillis; and Killeen was directly in front of Higgins, who could see right over the top of her head. Rylen was leaning against the wall in the corner behind the Commander, opposite from where the injured officers sat. Delrin Barris was half-seated on the ladder to the second floor.

“We are not marching to the Temple,” Cullen announced without preamble.

He was met with silence. Shocked silence, angry silence, but silence nonetheless.

“I can give you a hundred reasons, but it boils down to these three: we are in no shape to march, the Inquisitor fears this may be a feint to draw us away, and she has a plan to close the Breach with only her team.”

The templars present had all been involved in closing the Breach before, and both Myles and Nicholas stepped forward to protest.

“No!” Aillis cried, before either of them could get a word out. The outburst cost her, and she wrapped a hand around her waist with a grimace of pain. “No, she _can’t_ ,” she continued, more softly. “We were there, Cullen, we know what it took to close the damn thing. She’ll burn herself to a fucking cinder trying to channel enough power to close the Breach.”

“Not if she gets the orb from Corypheus,” Cullen countered mildly. “We has reason to believe only Corypheus and his dragon will be at the ruins of the Temple. The Inquisitor intends to kill the dragon, kill Corypheus, and then claim the orb that caused all this mess in the first place.”

When the templars started to argue again, Higgins raised his voice. “Cullen can’t change it,” he cut them off. Aillis turned to look at him, while Myles and Nicholas fell silent. “She did this to us before, running off without the army to protect her. Cullen likely agrees with you, but there’s no changing the Inquisitor’s mind. Yelling at the Commander won’t fix it.”

The Knight-Lieutenants seemed to deflate. Aillis, tears in her eyes, merely nodded.

“What can we _do_ , ser?” Higgins asked the Commander.

The look Cullen gave Higgins was as grateful as it was weary. “Pray,” he answered.

The meeting broke up quickly, the Lieutenants hurrying back to keep their companies calm, as a good portion had joined long after Haven had fallen, and had never seen the Breach. Higgins made sure he stopped to talk to every soldier in his command during his Watch, taking them up to the battlements to look at the Breach if they hadn’t seen it previously.

Killeen settled in Cullen’s office and helped the Commander pound out what work he had left from the march on the Arbor Wilds. Letters of condolence would have to wait – each was hand-written and would be done one at a time and never hurried. But everything that was to accompany those letters: personal affects, wages, bereavement sums; all of that had to be prepared and accounted for. Rolls had to be adjusted, the census was to be corrected, items issued had to be returned to the quartermaster and their disposition recorded in the inventory logs. New census information had to be delivered to the kitchen, the quartermaster, and the Steward. The more Killeen looked, the more work she found to be done.

Rylen was doing the majority of the legwork for her, as Killeen wrote with a finer hand, which was why Killeen was alone at Cullen’s desk when the Inquisitor came looking for him.

“Lieutenant?” Evelyn asked, astonished. She apparently hadn’t heard about Killeen’s promotion; if this was the last time she was going to see the Herald alive, Killeen wasn’t going to censure her for being out of the loop.

“The man is a machine,” Killeen answered instead, keeping her head bent to her work. “He got more done in an hour than he used to finish in an afternoon, and that’s saying something. Kicking lyrium might go down as the greatest accomplishment of the age, and to say that to you is _really_ something.”

“So if he’s not here,” the Inquisitor pressed, “where the fuck is he?”

Something about her tone snapped Killeen’s head up, but she couldn’t help but smile at Trevelyan. “Wouldn’t tell me. Said you would know the spot, if you came looking.” The expression on her face said the Herald did _not_ feel like a guessing game. “I’m pretty sure he meant the shrine to Andraste; you both spent a lot of time there back in the day.”

Evelyn sighed. “Thank you, Killeen.”

“Herald?” Killeen called as Trevelyan turned to leave. The Inquisitor paused with her hand on the door and glanced back. “Good luck, Evelyn. We’re all praying for you.”

It earned her a weak smile. “Thanks,” she said, more sincerely this time, and shouldered out of the office.

Higgins found them in the garden as he was doing his final round before the Bell rang Fourth. They were walking slowly out of the shrine, arm-in-arm, both of their minds clearly elsewhere.

“Ser,” Higgins said, nodding to the Commander. “Ser,” he said again, this time to the Inquisitor.

They both smiled. Evelyn reached out her free hand, and Higgins stopped so she could rest her palm atop his bracer. “So good to see you,” she said softly. “How is Aillis? I heard she was injured.”

“Knight-Captain Aillis is recovering, ser,” Higgins answered, conscious of his surroundings. “I have as yet been unable to see her myself, between the change in responsibilities and the reopening of the Breach. I hope to visit her tomorrow.”

“Take the day,” Cullen offered. “We will get nothing done tomorrow, regardless. I expect half of Skyhold will be crammed on the battlements, staring to the south.”

Evelyn released her light hold on Higgins’ arm to give Cullen a gentle squeeze. Higgins clanked his fist against his breast and left them in the garden, eager to give them their privacy.

“Wait, did he say Knight- _Captain_? When the fuck did that happen?” he heard her ask as he rounded the corner on the stairwell up, and Higgins couldn’t help but laugh. She might be riding to her death in the morning, but the Inquisitor never changed.

The keep was empty the next morning, when she left. She should have known better: Higgins’ company had stayed awake through First Watch and polished their armor, so that when the Inquisitor and her team rode out at first light, she had a full honor guard waiting at the gate. As the harts’ hooves clattered across the causeway, Higgins’ soldiers brought their shields up and slapped them to their breast plates, creating a echoing metallic _snap_ that would have awoken the encampment if everyone wasn’t already up and watching. Evelyn, Cassandra, Solas, Varric and Morrigan rode through a tunnel of polished steel as they rode out to meet the Breach.

Higgins and Killeen rigged a ladder in Cullen’s old bedroom and climbed out of the hole in the ceiling to stand on the roof. Within an hour, they had all the other officers up there with them; DeForest had a hell of a time with his crutches but made it, while Higgins personally carried Aillis up the ladder. They brought up stacks of blankets and wrapped the still-battered Knight-Captain in layers of wool and sat staring at the Breach.

Davis and Crews were left on the battlements on either side of Cullen’s office, so they could call up to the assembly on the roof if anything was needed. Cullen had given the whole army the day off, for all intents and purposes… everyone was awake and wandering the ramparts, making patrols redundant.

Higgins found himself sitting against the half-wall on the roof next to Aillis.

“How you doing, Bluebird?”

“Cullen tell you to talk to me?”

“No, ser. The Inquisitor asked me last night how you were holding up, though. I realized I didn’t have any answer for her. Didn’t seem right, given our history.”

That shook a tiny smile out of her. “I looked up to him, you know? He wasn’t my brother, he was my _idol_. And somehow along the way he became my friend. We are templars… we know we won’t live forever. We know we’ve got a horrible fate in front of us. So we don’t think about the future. We focus on _now_ , on what lyrium we need to take _now_ , on what maleficar we’re faced with _now_. And if we get a _later_ , we take it. And somewhere I lost track of that. Maybe it was the hundredth time Knuckles evaded death. But somewhere along the way I forgot that he’d taken his vows – his lyrium – before me, and I was doomed to watch him die. It surprised me, when it actually happened.”

Higgins dug into the mound of blankets she was swathed in and found her hand, twining his fingers through hers, but didn’t attempt an answer. She wasn’t looking for advice, after all.

“It makes me feel like a terrible person,” she continued softly a little while later, “but I feel like I was robbed. I was supposed to watch him die, horribly, from lyrium use when we were old and gray. And then, after I buried him, it would be my turn to die in the same horrible way. That has always been in the back of my head, _this is how we’ll go_. And they _took that_ from me. I should be glad. I should be thrilled that he went fast, in his prime, in a battle for a righteous cause. I should be relieved that he was saved from what we just watched Cullen go through, that he was saved from the horrible downward spiral into dementia. But I’m not. I’m _pissed_.”

Higgins squeezed her hand, but stayed silent.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m fucking weird, Nuggins,” she chided him.

“You’re not,” he replied evenly. “I’m not going to lie to you, Aillis.”

“I shouldn’t be angry that my friend isn’t going to suffer.”

“You should be angry that the future you expected, _planned for_ even, was denied to you. You expected years. You expected to be able to do for Eamon what I was doing for Cullen. I was glad to be there for him… granted, I’m more glad that he _lived_ , but still. Am I a terrible person for being glad Cullen chose me to watch him suffer?”

Aillis clung to his hand as her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “That smug fucking prick.”

“You lost me,” Higgins admitted.

“He told me I would feel better the second I tried talking to you. What a know-it-all jackoff.”

Higgins grinned. “Who?”

“Our scarfaced assache of a Commander, who else?”

Higgins leaned his head back against the wall and shook with silent laughter.

“Oh, _fuck you too_ ,” Aillis grumbled, but within seconds she was joining him, a lilting sound totally at odds with the tears on her face.

Killeen came over then, pressing herself in between Aillis and the corner of the half-wall. “Infuriating when they’re right, isn’t it?”

“Unacceptable,” Aillis agreed. Killeen laid her head on Aillis’ shoulder and the two women settled closer against one another. Higgins reached one arm around them both, leaving his other hand twined with Aillis, and the three of them watched for the end of the world.


	59. New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because you all want me to end this with your plutonic OT3, you know you do.

 

Haven was too far for any details of the fight to be visible. If Killeen fancied she could see dragons darting through the clouds of the Breach – and insisting her eyesight _was_ far better than Higgins’, afterall – no one else could verify it. Everyone could agree, however, that some hours after Second Bell – when Ringwold had climbed up with baskets of food from the kitchen for the group of officers on the roof – the Breach suddenly, spectacularly imploded.

They all surged to their feet, Higgins lifting Aillis up as he rose. They lined the edge of the roof closest to the ravencote and waited.

Minutes went by, and they waited. Higgins settled Aillis back down in her blankets and crouched beside her, both of them keeping their eyes glued on the ravencote.

Skyhold seemed to be holding its breath.

An hour had passed by before a black shape came winging into view from the south. It circled the ramparts once and then dove towards the ravencote. Leliana was standing on the balcony, and it landed lightly on her outstretched arm. She soothed the bird, congratulating it and giving it a treat as she pulled the message from its talon. She ducked into the building to hand the bird off, then came back to the balcony to unroll and read the missive.

She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted down to the courtyard.

“Victory!”

Higgins slumped to his knees.

“Its over?” Aillis breathed.

“Maker’s breath, did we win?” Killeen echoed the sentiment.

“Let’s get you off the roof,” Higgins told the injured Knight-Captain. “We’ll get you someplace warm and _centralized_ , so as soon as there’s news, you’ll hear. How about Dorian’s corner of the library?”

As Aillis nodded and Killeen helped Higgins pull their friend down the ladder, Rylen announced his intention to find Cullen. “That’s the first person Leliana will show that missive to, whether she wants to or not.”

The roof was cleared within minutes and the officers scattered. Killeen went to clear the battlements. Higgins – with help from Ringwold – carried Aillis into the main hall and delivered her into Dorian’s care, much to the Tevinter’s delight. Baudin helped DeForest back out to the encampment, where Higgins eventually joined them, and the three Lieutenants worked to bring the encampment back to order. The Knight-Lieutenants had gone to check in with Delrin Barris before making their way to the encampment with the same goal in mind.

“Is Knuckles okay?” Crews asked Higgins as soon as the Lieutenant returned to the corner of the encampment they all considered Killeen’s.

“I haven’t heard. I know the Breach is closed, and I know the Nightingale considers it a victory. I think, if the Inquisitor was lost, she would have said the same thing… but I think I would have seen it on her face. She looked genuinely happy to me. We were about even with her balcony, I had a pretty good view.”

“When will we know?” Elliot pressed.

“Killeen’s up in the keep, still. She’ll have to either come out here to find me or _send_ someone to find me, so stay close and I’ll let you know if there’s any news.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Sleep,” Higgins answered. “I’ve been awake since First Bell _yesterday_ and the party doesn’t start until Knuckles gets back.”

With the laughter of his company behind him – and Weaver dragging a stool over to stand guard over his rest – Higgins stumbled into his tent and collapsed.

“Higgins in there?” he heard as he began to drift off.

“He is. Should you be here, ser?”

“I should. Let me know if Killeen sends for either of us.”

The tent flap opened and Aillis slipped inside.

“How did you get down here?” Higgins asked wearily. He wasn’t in any shape to argue with Aillis.

She answered by holding up an empty flask. “Remember those beastly health potions you started getting from Solas? Dorian shared the wealth.”

Higgins couldn’t help the laugh. “Figures. I need sleep, Bluebird-“

“Yeah, me too. Scoot over. The keep’s too loud and I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

With a sigh, Higgins moved to the edge of his cot and rolled to his side. Aillis flopped down next to him and was almost instantly asleep. Higgins spent a few moments arranging the blanket on his cot to cover them both before abandoning the attempt and following her into unconsciousness.

“Is he awake?” Killeen's voice drew him from slumber. Higgins could only see the back of Aillis' head from where he lay, but the dimmed light in the tent told him many hours had passed since they'd laid down to sleep.

“I don’t think so.”

“I don’t want to wake him, he needs his rest.”

“He’ll want to hear.”

“Just fucking _say it_ ,” Higgins groaned without moving. “Maker’s teats, you think you’re so sneaky. I'm awake, alright? What news, Killer?”

Aillis, still pressed against him on the cot, shook with laughter as Killeen’s voice moved closer. “Knuckles is back. Unharmed. Morrigan split her scalp but should be fine. Varric and Cassandra are good, too. Solas disappeared, though. The orb wasn’t recovered – it was split in half somehow. Knuckles thinks Solas took it and left, but she was too intent on getting home to worry about it. There’s a party in the keep tonight, I’m genuinely surprised you can’t hear it from here.”

“I assume Josie is planning something heinously extravagant for a later date?”

Aillis was laughing again, and the amusement was plain in Killeen’s voice. “You got it.”

“Alright. Anything else?”

“The Commander and the Inquisitor are engaged.”

“What?” Aillis squealed. “Really?”

Higgins snorted. “No shock there.”

Aillis managed to throw an elbow into his ribs. “Void take you, Higgins, you’re such a _boy_ sometimes.”

“Thank you?”

“Rylen’s temporarily in charge of the keep, so the Commander can party with his lady love. He took volunteers this afternoon for guard duty and filled up two shifts. You’re on for second tomorrow, though – we’re keeping up the guard rotation for the time being, until we’ve had a chance to establish a new normal.”

Aillis grunted. “Normal? What is this _normal_ of which you speak?”

It was Higgins’ turn to chuckle. “I know, right? What does that even mean?”

“Go back to sleep, you two,” Killeen reached out two hands to ruffle both their heads simultaneously. “Aillis, you’ve got tomorrow free and then you’re back to work. Higgins, I’ll see you at First Bell tomorrow.”

“What time is it now?”

“Third rang about two hours ago.”

“Eight more hours to sleep? Killeen, I could kiss you.”

The Captain’s laugh was muffled – she must have already left the tent. “Save it, Nuggins.” Higgins heard the familiar sounds of Killeen's armor dropping off in the tent next to him, followed by a heavy  _thud_ and a sigh. She was snoring within minutes, following Higgins' and Aillis' lead.

“You warm enough?” he asked Aillis.

She muttered inaudible something in return, already drifting back towards sleep.

“Good night, Aillis.”

“Love ya, Nuggins.”

“Right back atcha, Bluebird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially the end of the story.  
> Chapters 60 and 61 are addendums, both taking place a long time after DA:I ends.  
> The soldiery in Skyhold doesn't have an awful lot to do in the immediate aftermath of Corypheus' defeat, and as such there are some skips in Higgins' story.  
> I promise you'll like the addendums, though. Scout's honor. <3


	60. Addendum: The Next Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made you some fluff. <3

“You sent for me, ser?” he asked as he strode into the Commander's office.

“Ah, yes, Higgins. Thank you. The Inquisitor asked me to speak with you. She has a fairly specific request she wishes me to make.”

Higgins nodded while he waited. The Commander hadn’t had anything new for anyone in months, aside from the steady shuffling of troops as soldiers opted to sign on permanently or leave for other pastures. While Cullen lived in the Inquisitor’s apartments, the Commander’s office remained essentially unchanged but for a second chair on the opposite side of his desk. The Lieutenant on duty often sat there, as continuous rounds of the keep were superfluous with the end of the war.

When Cullen seemed unsure of how to continue, Higgins prompted, “What did your lady wife like to request of me, ser?”

Cullen coughed a laugh. “That never gets old. _My lady wife_ would like to suspend your service with the Inquisition in general and reallocate you to a new post.”

Higgins managed to stifle the sound of his sharp exhale, but only just. “Ser?”

“Nobody’s dying, Higgins, breathe,” the Commander laughed again. “She wishes to put you in charge of a more-or-less permanent protection detail. We initially thought you would remain a Lieutenant under Captain Killeen, but after further discussion think it best if you're promoted to Captain and given the opportunity to cherry pick your company, including your own Lieutenants if you deem necessary."

“I see, ser. And this protection detail is for…?”

The Commander’s face softened, suddenly encompassing a warm sort of peace Higgins had never seen on the man’s countenance before. “Arguably for any visiting dignitaries, after all the visits we've been getting from royalty have shown such a need. Specifically, however, for the lady Cassandra Rutherford, who entered the world some two hours ago.”

Higgins’ face was split with a broad smile. “Congratulations, ser.”

Cullen grinned in return. “Thank you, Higgins.”

“The Inquisitor? She is well?”

“She is perfect,” Cullen breathed, leaning against his desk in state of blissful shock.

“I would be… _honored_ , ser, to take over responsibility for your daughter’s safety.”

Cullen pushed off the desk to clasp Higgins’ hand warmly. “It was her suggestion, I must admit, but I can think of no one better.”

“Thank you, ser. May I ask, why no announcement? We’ve been waiting for nearly a week now to hear news of the baby.”

Cullen’s smile narrowed but did not vanish. “Evelyn needs some rest. Vivienne and Leliana are leaving for Denerim as soon as Evelyn finishes her letter to Queen Moira; the instant they near the stable, the secret will be out. Josephine will be making the announcement from the main hall steps any time now. I wanted you to get upstairs before that point, for the inevitable rush of well-wishers.”

Higgins grinned his understanding. “Absolutely, ser. I will go now, and make my introduction. I will have a list of names ready for your consideration by this time tomorrow, to fill out the new company.”

“We’ll sit down and discuss it at Second Bell. Come, before the horde descends.”

Higgins followed Cullen across the causeway into the main hall. His eyes were inevitably drawn to the painting left unfinished when Solas vanished as they passed through the antechamber where Solas had lived, where he and Killeen had their nightmares excised by the taciturn elf. Josephine was just emerging from the Inquisitor’s quarters when Cullen and Higgins reached the door, and the Ambassador’s broad grin only widened when she saw the Commander. They exchanged pleasantries and then the men started up the stairs while Josephine practically danced to the doors to announce the Inquisitor’s happy news.

Aieyla was sitting in a rocking chair that had been placed near the fire, knitting what looked to be an exceptionally small sock. Dorian was lounging on the chaise near her, his back to the door, cooing an unintelligible song. Evelyn was asleep, stretched out on her side with the curtains drawn on her four-poster bed. The flimsy white material was more for show than anything, but it obscured Evelyn’s features enough to give the illusion of privacy.

Aieyla smiled warmly at Cullen and Higgins as they entered the room, and the Commander led the Lieutenant to Dorian’s side, both men careful to make as little noise as possible.

“Our little angel is awake,” Dorian breathed in a sing-song voice as the soldiers drew near. Cullen put his hand on Higgins’ shoulder as they leaned forward to gaze at the blanket-wrapped bundle on the chaise in front of Dorian, pressed gently to the Tevinter’s chest.

Her eyes were blue – impossibly blue – and she was watching Dorian’s face as he over-emphasized every word he spoke. “She’s been awake a whole five minutes now. It’s a new record.”

“Captain Morty Higgins, I’m pleased to introduce you to the lady Cassandra Rutherford,” Cullen breathed.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady,” Higgins whispered, extending his hand down to press into the newborn’s palm. She reflexively closed her fist around it, and Higgins gently shook her hand.

Aieyla chuckled as Dorian smoothly lifted the baby and turned to deposit her in Higgins’ arms. Higgins hadn’t held a baby in over a decade – not since Glennon’s youngest brother was born – but he found she was swaddled heavily enough as to make her a comfortable burden.

“I give her up _only_ because I desperately need a bath and a cup of tea,” Dorian said, stretching his back and making for the doors. “Anders should be back in another two hours or so to check in on Evelyn, and I’ll bring up dinner at Third Bell. I suspect Josephine will be back up as soon as-“

His words were cut off by a sudden cheer from the courtyard below, and Cullen jerked his head for Higgins to follow him to the balcony. The Commander opened the door and stepped through, waving for Higgins to hand him little Cassandra.

Higgins did so reluctantly – her eyes were still open and she was soberly focused on his face as much as she had been on Dorian’s – and the Commander snuggled his daughter into his arm like he’d been doing it for years instead of only a few hours. He raised his other arm in a wave, and the answering roar from the crowd far below rattled the windows on the balcony and caused little Cassandra to squall.

They ducked quickly back into the room, to find Evelyn awake and pulling the curtains open.

“She was only out there for a second-“ Cullen started.

“No, its fine,” she laughed. “Bring her here, the monster is likely hungry again.”

As Cullen quickly crossed the room, Evelyn noticed Higgins closing the balcony doors. “Nuggins! You met Cass?”

Higgins grinned at the Inquisitor. “I did. Even managed to liberate her from Dorian for a moment.”

Evelyn laughed happily as she took her daughter from Cullen and slid back into the bed, letting the curtains swing shut behind her. It was a simple solution to the matter of propriety, as she could nurse without chasing anyone from the room.

“So you agreed?” She asked a moment later, as the baby’s cry cut off with a happy gurgle.

“I did. I would be honored to keep watch over your _little monster_.”

“Fantastic,” Evelyn said, the word cut off with a yawn. “Maker, I will never catch up on sleep.”

“Not likely,” Aieyla agreed lightly. “Sleep when the baby sleeps, that’s what my mother always said.”

“Brilliant woman, your mother,” Evelyn replied. It had the sound of an oft-repeated phrase.

“I will go man the door,” Higgins said, gesturing towards the stairs. “If I start from the top I can turn back anyone who’s made it this far. Who is approved to pass?”

Cullen motioned for Higgins to lead the way out. “Josephine,” the Commander answered as they started down the stairs. “Anders and Dorian. Aieyla. Good luck keeping those four out, honestly. Mahvrin, of course, although he will likely only come looking for Aieyla. Other than that, limit guests as much as possible. Anyone else is up to your discretion; I trust your judgment.”

“Thank you, ser,” Higgins said, and the two men clasped hands again. “Thank _you_ , Higgins,” Cullen replied.

They reached the bottom of the stairs just as the door swung open to admit Killeen and Aillis. “You told Nuggins before us?” the Knight-Captain exclaimed. “Bullshit,” Higgins' former Captain disapproved.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Higgins said, “and that includes the time you spend on the stairs. Better run. Aieyla’s up there, so don’t even _try_ to overstay your welcome.”

The two women raced each other up the steps as Cullen laughed and started up behind them.

Higgins slid out the door into the main hall and set his shoulders, starting his new watch.


	61. Addendum: The Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You had to know I was going to end it with these three. I couldn't possibly leave this end dangling.

“I have another favor to ask,” Evelyn said as she handed him Cass and rose from the chaise to draw herself a bath.

Higgins settled on the rocking chair with the squirming infant. His armor had been adjusted to accommodate the tiny hands he was often attacked by, with Josephine designing a new uniform for the members of his Home Guard, as they were called by the rest of the Inquisition. The dragon scales retrieved from the Hissing Wastes had been cured and softened to form their armor with minimal buckles and straps, so Cass didn't have anything to latch onto or pinch her fingers in.

“I already told you, I don’t do diapers. That’s for her parents or her aunties and uncles. We agreed, I can’t protect her as well if she sees me as family.”

“No, no, no, we’re not having that fight again,” Evelyn laughed from the other room. “I just changed her, it’s not that.”

“Alright,” Higgins settled his knee into a bouncing rhythm that Cass adored, and she quickly started cooing up at him. Higgins resisted the urge to make faces at her – but only just. “What’s the favor, then?”

“Try to keep an open mind,” Evelyn cautioned. Higgins felt a tingle of dread descend his spine. “Moira and Alistair are going with us to Kirkwall, to fu…. to mess with Varric,” she narrowly caught herself, the rule being no swearing in front of the baby. “So the plan is for them to bring Eleanor here, and leave her in Skyhold while they’re in the Free Marches.”

“You want me,” Higgins enunciated each word carefully, “to take responsibility for the safety of the _heir of Ferelden_?”

“Essentially.”

“I don’t know whether to be honored or horrified.”

“Both would be reasonable.”

Mindful of the impressionable mind in his lap, Higgins took a deep breath. “Will there be a Fereldan entourage I will be reporting to?”

Evelyn poked her head out of the bathing chamber. “No?” she replied, ruefully.

Higgins winced. “So her being here is supposed to be a secret.”

“You got it,” the answer came in between splashes as Evelyn’s head disappeared and she climbed into her bath.

“So I won’t have any extra help with the second charge.”

“No. But we plan to leave Anders here. And most of the military. So if you need to requisition anyone from other companies, you’re welcome to. I bet Ringwold would help, he adores Cass and is a good, loyal Fereldan.”

“I’ll keep it inside my company,” Higgins said, half to himself. “The fewer the know, the safer the princess will be.”

“So you’ll do it, fantastic,” Evelyn cheered from the other room.

Higgins sighed, loudly. “I suppose I will. For my King and my teyrn.”

“That’s what I told Moira you’d say. She was sold once she knew you were a Highever man. I neglected to mention that Rufus tree’d you once, I figured I’d save your dignity that one.”

“My parents will have kittens,” he told the empty room. “I will wait until long after the fact to tell them, of course, but having a Cousland on the throne is the Highever dream.”

Evelyn didn’t reply – likely had her head under the water – and Higgins was temporarily alone with little Cass and his thoughts. She squirmed until he tipped her up onto his shoulder and began to whisper to her as they rocked back and forth in the chair. 

_Unleash this confusion, I’ll wander in defeat_  
_Wonder how better now having survived_  
_Jarring of judgment and reason depletes  
_ _The sweet heat of her breath in my mouth – I’m alive_

“You need to take Aillis with you,” he told Evelyn when she came back into the room some time later, tying her thick bathrobe over her plaidweave pajamas. 

“Aillis and Killeen were both already going with us,” Evelyn countered with a frown. “Why did you want Aillis to go, specifically?”

“Because I’d put money on Sera being there.”

A smirk slowly blossomed on Evelyn’s face. “Ah, Nuggins, you devious weasel. I’ll personally _guarantee_ Sera will be there.”

Higgins grinned as he handed her the now-sleeping Cass.

“I know you’re not _that_ boring,” Evelyn said with a sigh as she crossed the room to settle her daughter in her bassinet. “How is it you put her to sleep every time you have her?”

Higgins shrugged. “I have a way with women, I suppose.”

 

*

 

“Higgins wanted you to have this, Knight-Captain,” the Inquisitor told her as the party was coming into full swing.

“Higgins?” Aillis asked. “Higgins wrote me a letter? I just saw him ten days ago. I practically live with the man.”

“Just read it, ass,” Evelyn said before being swallowed up by the crowd.

 

_Bluebird,_

_I asked Knuckles to give you this at the party. I know you’re technically on duty there, but you and I both know there is no force on Thedas that would be stupid enough to launch an attack on **that** group of people. Seriously, look around you. Scary, I'm sure._

_I’m telling you this as your friend, your confidante, and your shield brother._

_Walk over there. Say hello to her. And then tell her you lied. Tell her it was her who had your eye. Tell her you never thought she would look twice at you, in Knuckles’ shadow. Show her this letter if you have to, if the words don’t come. But don’t let her walk out of your life again without saying something._

_Even if the answer is no. Even if it’s somehow worse than no. Tomorrow you’ll be on your way back here and she’ll be headed back to Val Royeaux and everyone will be so fucking hungover they won’t notice you one way or the other._

_You have nothing to lose._

_And so help me if you come back to Skyhold without talking to her I will **destroy** you on the practice field, you know I can._

_Nuggins_

Aillis laughed as she read it, the tears springing up in her eyes unbidden.

He was right. Ornery little bastard was always right.

Sera was currently embroiled in an archery contest with Varric and Leliana – who were always banned from the contests at Skyhold and loving this opportunity to show off – as well as the Prince of Starkhaven, Sebastian Vael. Sera was kicking Sebastian’s ass and reveling in it.

Aillis slipped out the front door, making a circuit of the Inquisition forces stationed around the estate, nodding to Killeen when they passed silently in the night. Their job was largely ceremonial; attacking this party was tantamount to suicide. The woods were full of Leliana’s rogues, and half a company of Templars on the roof. Killeen’s soldiers were continuously checking on both of the other groups, making sure everyone was constantly accounted for.

Content, Aillis reentered the estate through the back door, the sounds of the party overwhelming after the relative peace outside. The elf who’d come with Aveline, Merrill, had gone around and warded the entire building to keep the sound in, making it easier for the scouts to determine if anyone was approaching the property. Even Dorian had been impressed with her work.

Sera was leaning against a wall in the kitchen, catching her breath. Alone. There were others in the room, of course – a handful of Chargers and an odd group who could only be Wardens – but for the moment Sera was talking to no one but herself as she eyed a plate of pastries on the counter.

“Sera,” Aillis said, giving her an awkward wave. “Hi.”

“Aillis!” the rogue crowed. “Enjoying the party or does Ev have you workin’?”

“Working,” Aillis verified, steeling her resolve as she crossed the room, Higgins’ letter crumpled in her hand.

“Psh. Of course. Because _this_ group needs guarding. Ha!”

“We’re letting all the guards come in and do a quick pass through, in case there’s anybody they want to meet,” Aillis told her while her mind raced for a way to force out the words she had kept silent for so long. “We picked the group pretty carefully, though. Level-headed people who aren’t much in the way of hero worship. I think Cassandra becoming the Divine burst the bubble for most of them.”

Sera laughed again. “Miss Metalbritches, the high Holy! After everyone saw her blushin’ in the courtyard, readin’ Varric’s smut. Oh yeah, burst that bubble wide open.”

Aillis smiled, opened her mouth – nothing.

“Wotcha got?” Sera asked, nodding at Aillis’ hand.

“Letter from Nuggins,” Aillis answered, dumbly.

Sera snatched it with a giggle. “Nuggins isn’t here, is he? Poor cheeky monkey always gets left behind when there’s nobility to scrape to.”

Aillis’ mouth went dry as Sera helped herself to Higgins’ letter. The elf’s laugh slowly quieted into a smile, which itself faded into a dropped jaw of confusion. Aillis watched her eyes as Sera started over again at the top and read through the letter a second time, slower.

Upon reaching the signature at the bottom, Sera’s gaze slowly lifted to meet Aillis’ bright blue stare.

“I lied,” Aillis said softly. “I was terrified of what you might say, and I lied to you rather than admit it was _you_ I was heartsick over. I cried for a week when you left for Val Royeaux. I thought I would get over you, but I haven’t. I can’t. I won’t.”

Aillis paused to search for words, but her next sentence was utterly unnecessary as Sera launched into her arms, wrapping herself around the willowy Fereldan and kissing her for all she was worth. Aillis staggered back in shock, reeling for a moment before her mind caught up and she wrapped her arms around Sera and returned the kiss.

“You fool,” Sera said pulling back to cup her face. “You _damn fool_. Why didya lemme leave?”

“I’m a damn fool,” Aillis agreed, and Sera pulled her mouth back down to hers. Aillis took a drunken step to lean Sera against the counter instead of staggering around the kitchen.

“Get a room!” a voice called – Krem, if she wasn’t mistaken – but Aillis ignored him.

“I have a room,” Sera said against Aillis’ mouth.

Aillis groaned. “I’m working.”

“I can getcha off,” Sera replied, immediately launching into giggles. “Get it?”

Aillis grinned between kisses. “I would love to get it.”

Sera pulled away and danced into the other room. Aillis – pausing only to touch knuckles with Krem on the way out – exited the back door to try and find Killeen.

“No way,” Killeen said before Aillis could even begin. “You tell her to come back with us to Skyhold. You don’t get to run off for a dalliance while I’m stuck out here. Not happening.”

“How do you even-“

“The kitchen has windows, asshole. We all know.”

Aillis floundered, feeling her cheeks redden.

“I would be happy for you if you weren’t trying to stick me with the _most boring patrol ever_. This is worse than when I had Watch during Evelyn’s Dragonslaying banquet.”

“When she hurled on Dorian’s shoes!” Sera’s happy laugh cut in. “Best. Party. Ever. ‘Til this one, ‘course.”

Aillis spun around in time to catch Sera as she flung herself at the templar. “I get that yer workin’. But I talked to Ev. Seems there’s some work I could be doin’ in Skyhold. She went and gave my room away to some magey git, but she said somethin’ about there being tower rooms for grabs now, so…”

Aillis dragged Sera’s mouth to her own for another long kiss while Killeen sighed at her side. “For the love of… Sera, go back and enjoy the damn party. You can have the Knight-Captain all to yourself on the road back, but I’ll be damned if she gets to skate out of work tonight.”

Sera broke away with another giggle. “Fool,” she said again, cupping a hand to Aillis’ face before spinning and darting back into the estate. Aillis watched her go with a awestruck grin.

“You owe Higgins a drink,” Killeen said, turning towards the stables to check in with the soldiers there.

Aillis laughed. “I owe Higgins my _life_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been fantastic, guys. Thanks for riding along with me through all this. I have other stories to tell, so I'm retiring Evelyn and her Captains. Higgins sort of jumped up and down and insisted his story was told, and I love that it was so well received. You've been just the best readers - and commenters - and kudo'ers - I could have hoped for and you made this so very very rewarding for me.   
> Thank you!


	62. Addendum: Epitaph (with art!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I was given this amazing artwork by NCGrimm, and I just couldn't not post it.  
> Killeen, Aillis, and Higgins on their off-hours.  
> And I couldn't just stick it in an existing chapter and have it get lost!  
> Grimmcake approved the posting of her amazing art alongside this, the Ultimate Chapter in Higgins' history.

She stood at the foot of the hill in Honnleath for far longer than she meant to.

The leather sack dangling from her hands was just heavy enough to cause her to shift it back and forth, subconsciously, as she let her thoughts wander; just heavy enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to be anywhere else – any _when_ else – the sack brought her back.

_Why do you sing that song, Captain? Nobody else seems to know it.  
_ _Everybody knows it, Wren. I’m just the only one stupid enough to admit it._

She let the memories swirl around her, desperate to lose herself to them.

The bag started to slip again, and she switched hands.

_Captain! Captain, it’s a bear!  
_ _Oh for the love of… You’re just like your mother._

He’d never explained that one, but Lily had said she’d found the story in a book, many years after the Great Bear had stormed their picnic and Captain had drawn the sword he’d always worn, the shield he’d always carried, and dispatched the giant creature as if it were merely a nuisance. Lily had tried to show her the book, but she hadn’t been interested, at the time.

The bag tightened around her finger, and she switched hands.

_I thought, when we sent someone to the Maker’s side, when we gave them to the flame, they were purified?_  
_They are._  
_So what are you doing?  
_ _Just because someone is gone, does not mean we forget._

She leaned forward, dropping the just-too-heavy sack to the ground beside her. With both hands, she reached out and traced the shape on the marble slab.

_Since when do you paint?  
__We knew a painter, once. Long ago. I think she would have wanted the memory_.

He’d spent days on it, sketching and re-sketching until it was perfect, painting and re-painting until it was exactly what he wanted. And, every year, he came back with the little pots and carefully touched it up. Some time later, a dwarf had come down from the mountains and carved runes into the stone, and Captain had never needed to touch up the paint again.

The little bluebird he’d spent so many hours perfecting was fixed permanently in the marble.

“Cass!” Lily called, likely still halfway to the house, the way her voice carried.

The bag was heavy in her hands, again, and she drew it up into her arms to save the growing ache in her fingers.

“Cass!” Lily said again, coming to stand beside her. “You should come inside, you’ll catch cold.”

“I will,” she said, casting a smile at her younger sister. It was hard to attach the word _young_ to any of them now, as even Jo had a headful of gray hair. “I just… can’t believe he’s gone.”

Lily draped a blanket over her shoulder and tugged the heavy sack out of her arms. “I’ll take this in the house, then. You can keep him company awhile longer.”

Lily turned back without another word. If she focused for a moment, Cass could hear the voices of her family in the house, their children and even some _grandchildren_ now. Everyone come to pay respects to the man they’d grown up calling _Captain_.

He’d stood watch over their childhoods. He’d chaperoned their first forays into the world. And when their parents had retired to the little house in Honnleath, he’d laid aside the uniform of the Home Guard and followed.

There’d been more of them, of course – more men and women in the Home Guard. Lieutenant Crews, Lieutenant Davis. Years later, Lieutenant Elliot. He hadn’t been the only Captain, either – Captain Killeen had run the Keep for as long as Cass could remember, though her eyes got sad when Lily had once asked her if there’d ever been other Captains.

Killeen had come to Honnleath, too, some years after the family had moved; Killeen and the woman whose memory Captain had painted on the marble. Killeen and Captain had spent all their free time with the other woman, although Cass couldn’t remember her name, and Jo barely remembered her at all. She’d been sick, and she’d terrified the children. She spoke to men who weren’t there and would often get the shakes. She would start to tell beautiful stories, but always got lost partway through, staring off into the distance and forgetting where she was. The night that she’d died, she had woken the house calling out _Sera, Sera!_ in a powerful voice, over and over again until nearly dawn. Captain had carried her outside to a pyre he and Papa had built, and then later put her ashes beneath the marble.

Many years later, Captain had carried Papa to his pyre, as well.

Just five years ago, when Killeen had passed, Cass was sure Captain wouldn’t have the strength to lift her, but he gathered her up with the back and arms of a much younger man and strode out of the house with a look of such determination that Cass had been brought to tears.

_I’ve carried her for longer than you’ve been alive, Wren. I can carry her a little longer_.

But last week he didn’t make it down to dinner. And three days later Cass was sending the letter to Denerim, calling her family home. One of Captain’s nephews – Mortimer, his name; Morty Glennon – had come down from Highever just in time to say goodbye, and to carry Captain to the pyre he had built for him. Morty had left before the rest of Cass’ family could arrive, but he took back with him to Highever the sword and shield Captain had carried, insisting they would be treated as priceless family heirlooms.

And now the ashes lay beneath the marble, beside Captain Killeen and the woman Cass could only remember as Bluebird.

_Is that why you call me Wren?  
_ _One of the many reasons._

“Cassandra, you need to come inside. You know what he would say.”

Cass didn’t look up; she would know that voice anywhere. “I still can’t believe you came.”

“Of course I came. He was the ghost that haunted my steps in Skyhold. He was your parents’ oldest friend. He was your last tie to them. And he was a bloody hero, to boot. Of _course_ I came.”

Cass reached out towards her friend to find a hand reaching back. “He would have been so happy to know you made the trip, Ellie. He always said a Cousland-“

“-on the throne was the Highever dream. I know, Cass, I remember. He stood with your family at my coronation, grinning to beat the band.”

Cass sighed and stepped away from the marble slab. “He was the kind of man you expected to live forever.”

“He’s where he wants to be, Cass. With Killeen and Aillis.”

“Aillis?”

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Knight-Captain Aillis. Bluebird.”

“I had forgotten her name,” Cass admitted.

“She’s in the book by Varric - the one about your mum. I know you never read it… but maybe now is the time.”

“It’s in the sack,” Cass said absently, gesturing over her shoulder in the direction Lily had gone. “Its one of the books Captain was holding for us. We weren’t ready for them, not yet. It was all still too fresh. But he’s gone, and we’re getting old. We’ve put it off too long.”

“Put what off?”

Cass looked away from the marble, finally, to meet the steely eyes of her Queen, her oldest friend. “We remember them as our parents. We’ve always resisted thinking of them as anything else. You’ve never had the option. Your mother was the bloody _Hero of Ferelden_ , the Warden Queen. Your father was the last of the Theirins. You’re the blood of legends. But Papa always shielded us from that. I remember hearing someone call Mama _Herald_ when I was fifteen, and I didn’t know who they were talking about. Captain sat me down and explained it all… the war, the Breach, the rifts. It never felt real to me. When Papa died and we found the books… we didn’t want them, Ellie. We didn’t want new memories. But we can’t hide from it any longer, can’t rely on Captain to keep their legacies anymore. We need to accept they were more than just our parents.”

“What are the books?” Eleanor asked.

“The book by Varric, for one. Captain said it was the original manuscript that Mama had marked up, the only one with her handwriting. The second one is oddly shaped, and it’s all these tiny scraps of paper like you’d send with a raven. Jo said they were letters my parents sent to each other. And the last one is Papa’s journal. I tried to read it, I tried… but, Maker’s breath, Ellie. The things he said about my mother… It was heartbreaking to know he outlived her, with the sort of love they had.”

“He held on for you,” Eleanor said gently.

“It would have been kinder if he’d gone with her, like your parents did.”

“I would not have wished that on you,” Eleanor disagreed. “It was terrible, to lose them both so close. You had all those years with your father, he had all that time with your children… it was worth it, in the end.”

“He had the Captain, too. And Captain Killeen. They sat at the fire long into the night and talked about people we never knew, places lost in the war. It was good for him, I think.”

“Call him by his name, Cass,” Eleanor urged her friend, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Even if only this once. He was so careful to keep his distance from you, to keep you safe, but you know he loved you like family. You _were_ his family.”

Cass nodded, the lump rising in her throat. “Mama called him _Nuggins_. I called him that – once – and oh, Papa was so angry. _He is a Captain of the Inquisition_ , Papa said. _He has killed for you, nearly died for you, and you will never speak to him with anything short of the courtesy you would give the Divine herself_. I had never seen my father so angry. And so I never called him anything but Captain, ever again.”

Cass lowered herself gently to the ground, her knees protesting the cold and damp as she pressed both palms to the lifeless marble. “Captain _Higgins_ ,” she whispered. “You will live on in the hearts of my children.”

Eleanor’s hands were on her again, helping her to stand. “We’re too old for this shit, Cass,” the Queen grumbled. “In a few years, he'll be chewing both our asses in the Beyond. Give him a bit of peace.”

They took carriages to Denerim in the morning, the whole family leaving Honnleath for the last time. The Arling was intended to be honorary, and the Rutherfords let the lands go back to Redcliffe when their father, the only Arl, had passed on. The Teryn of Redcliffe encouraged them to stay in the house, and Cass had done so. Her children were grown and she long since widowed, but she and the Captain stayed on with a handful of retainers who had been servants so long they were more correctly called friends. But the passing of time was relentless, and Cass decided to move to the capital to be with her children, her grandchildren, and to live out her days in the comfort of the palace with Eleanor.

The house was emptied, the windows boarded, the lands left fallow. The tiny corner of the world their parents had carved out for themselves was left to suffer the ravages of time alone.

No one was there to see the dwarf come out of the mountains the next afternoon. She made her way to the marble slab and settled down beside it in the cold. She worked tirelessly for four days and then went right back to whence she came.

Left etched in the marble was a flawless rendition of the ancient shield the Captain had carried with him for all those years, right down to the runes etched around the edges. Under the shield, in script so tiny it was almost impossible to read, were the words:  
_Nuggins, Nuggins! His heart pure and true._  
_Saved us our Herald, now he’s our Captain!_  
_Nuggins, Nuggins! For me and You._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the art goes to [NCGrimm](http://grimmcake.tumblr.com/)


End file.
